


And Sore Must be the Storm

by Lusern



Series: Strangest Sea [2]
Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon Compliant, M/M, Post-Series, Reunion, post-reunion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 12:01:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 41,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16118033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lusern/pseuds/Lusern
Summary: After ten years of separation, Shion and Nezumi have settled into a mostly comfortable life in a new city. But a mysterious disease has appeared in No. 5, one that is frighteningly familiar to the two now-grown men. The life of one of Shion’s students hangs in the balance as they confront present danger along with the demons of their pasts.-OR-An imagined sequel series to the original light novels, featuring 100% more lesbians.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 11/26/18 - I had posted several chapters of this before I realized I needed to go back and change some things plot-wise. Hopefully it'll be a bit more focused this time. Turns out it's better to actually have a plot fleshed out before you jump into these sorts of things ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

* * *

  

In nova fert animus mutatas dicere formas corpora  
_I intend to speak of forms changed into new entities…_

 _-_ Ovid _, Metamorphoses,_ opening of Book 1

   

* * *

 

The sun beat down on the backs of the workers as they laid down one tie after another along the high-speed track that would soon connect the city-states of No. 4 and No. 5. Much of the land they had traversed thus far had been arid and devoid of life, but for days now their work had taken them into a massive forest that spread itself to the mountains southeast of No. 4, which loomed over the distant horizon.

“It’s a shame,” one of the workers said, sitting back on his haunches after adjusting another heavy plastic-alloy rail tie.

“What’s a shame?”

His partner, a stocky, broad-shouldered woman, didn’t stop or even slow, hauling another tie off the rail cart that steadily followed their progress.

“Cuttin’ down all these trees. You don’t see forests like this anymore, do you? Makes the little parks we’ve got back in No. 5 seem pathetic by comparison.”

The woman snorted. “Laying track around the forest would just make even more damn work for us. Did you fail math as a kid, or something? The shortest distance between two points is a line, not a squiggle.”

“I didn’t fail math,” the man grumbled, standing up to carefully position the next tie so that it was flat and its spacing was even. “I know it’s faster. I just think it’s a shame.”

The woman grunted as she pulled down another rail tie and the man stepped over to help her lower it to the ground. “Thanks,” she said, wiping sweat off her forehead. “Hey, you okay there?”

The man had gone pale and his breaths were coming quick and shallow. “Yeah, I think so,” he said, his voice strained. “Gimme a minute…”

“Oi, Milo!” A sandy-haired man poked his head out from the other side of the rail cart. “Can you radio camp? Emil here’s not doin’ too well.”

“Don’t bother, I’m fine,” Emil insisted, even as his legs wobbled beneath him.

“Is he dehydrated again?” Milo asked, pulling a bulky satellite communicator from the back of the cart.

“Might be, I dunno—shit!”

The woman caught Emil in her arms before he collapsed to the ground. His eyes had gone unfocused and his body had gone limp, except for his arms, which he clutched tightly to his chest.

“Emil!”

The man didn’t respond. Milo began shouting into the communicator as they carried the unconscious man onto the specialized truck that could speed down the railway tracks. They drove south towards the workers’ camp, kicking up a cloud of dust in their wake.

All signs of human life vanished into the distance.

The forest was silent and still.

 

* * *

 

Today, his students were restless. They were supposed to be studying stoichiometry, which the children found (with good reason, Shion had to admit) incredibly boring. He had given them a series of problems to work on groups, but was fielding more questions about why they should care than about the science itself. He knew that if he were a better teacher—like Anna, the other tenth-year science teacher—he would be able to muster the energy and enthusiasm to convince his students that the topic was important and interesting; as it stood, all he could do was admit that the work was a little dull, and ask kindly that everyone do their best.

“Mr. Shion, look!”

Maya held out her tablet computer. Her friend Carina (who went by Cara, now, as Maya’s nickname for her had firmly stuck) elbowed her. “That’s not what we’re supposed to be working on,” she hissed, her expression anxious.

“I already finished that,” Maya said, pointing at the half-finished worksheet on Cara’s desk. “It was boring.”

“Ma-ya,” Cara reprimanded, dragging her name out into two long sing-song syllables.

“What do you want to show me, Maya?” Shion asked, holding back laughter. That was a very important skill for dealing with teenagers, he had learned.

She tapped something on her tablet and shoved it into Shion’s hands. On the screen was a detailed, interactive schematic of a prosthetic leg. Shion peered at it with interest. A small paragraph in the corner was titled ‘Neural Connectivity in Advanced Prostheses.’

“What is this?” he asked.

“It’s the design for my new leg. It’s cutting edge technology, I’m part of a clinical trial. It’s got a chip that connects directly to my nervous system.” Maya’s words were quick and excited. She zoomed in on the schematic. “I have to go under for the surgery, but if it works, I’ll be able to control it like a normal human leg.”

“Wow,” Shion said, under his breath. He remembered hearing about this technology being developed in No. 5, but it had advanced much faster than he was expecting, if it was already in clinical trials. It was the direct descendant of a technology that had originally been developed in No. 6 in order to imprison and control people—like what had happened to Safu. A vivid image of human brains floating in clear glass prisons swam before his mind’s eye. Shion pushed it away.

“When is the surgery?”

“Next Monday,” Maya said. “I’ll be gone at least a week, though. They don’t know how long the rehab will take.”

“I hope it’s successful,” Shin said. He grinned, a cheeky thing he had picked up from his students. “I’ll make sure to send you all your homework so you won’t get behind.”

Shion expected her to roll her eyes or pout, but instead she flashed him a grin which surpassed his own in cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ve already done the homework for next week.”

“Oh,” Shion said, laughing at himself and returning her tablet “Well, then I wish you the best of luck and a speedy recovery.”

“Thanks, Mr. Shion.”

Shion turned away to answer another student’s question, but he could still hear Maya and Cara talking to each other in the hushed tones his students used when they were trying to keep adults from hearing them, but which were still perfectly audible anyway.

“I wanted to go with you,” Cara said, “But my parents are still on their trip in No. 4 and won’t give me permission to miss school.”

“That’s okay,” Maya said. “You’ll be able to come after class, though, right?”

“Yeah,” Cara said, her voice only marginally more cheerful. “And your parents will be there, won’t they?”

Maya hesitated. “No,” she said, in a bright tone that did little to mask her disappointment. “Neither of them could get off work. My dad will be able to come in the evening when his shift ends, but my mom had to go back to the construction site yesterday and won’t be back until the weekend.”

“Maybe I will just skip school, then,” Cara said, sounding a little frightened at the thought.

Shion edged closer to their table under the guise of checking another student’s work.

“You’ll be grounded for a week if you do that,” Cara’s twin brother George said. “Then you won’t be allowed to visit her at all.”

“Don’t skip,” Maya said, firmly. “I’ll be okay. I’m used to hospitals, remember?”

“Yeah, but…” Cara’s voice became small. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Maya threw her arm around Cara’s shoulders and laughed loudly. “Oh, Cara, you’re such a good friend,” she said, talking at her usual volume now. “Don’t worry so much about the surgery. Worry about what present you’re going to bring me. I was thinking I’ll probably want cake. The hospital food is all healthy and bland.”

Cara laughed, weakly. “Okay,” she said. “I can do that.”

The bell rang. Shion went back to the front of the classroom to collect completed worksheets and remind everyone of their homework for the next day. His students rushed past him, eager for their freedom. Maya, Cara, and George were the last out the door, engaged in a heated argument about the different types of cake. George was insisting that cheesecakes were the best, Cara was stoutly defending the merits of angel food, and Maya was unwavering in her belief that whatever had the most chocolate in it held superiority.

“Hey, Mr. Shion!” George shouted from the doorway. “What do you think’s the best type of cake?”

“Hm? Oh,” Shion said. “My favorite is cherry cake.”

All three students looked at each other at once. “Nah,” they said in unison, shaking their heads as if it were the most ridiculous thing they had ever heard. Warm, hearty laughter bubbled out of him as they jostled past each other out into the hallway.

“See you tomorrow, Mr. Shion!”

Shion couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed like this, free and joyful. Perhaps he didn’t deserve to feel this sort of happiness, but for once he managed to sweep his doubt away. He let the joyful feeling wash over him as he waved his students out the door.

 

 

Shion heard the sounds of a key turning in the lock and of the door being quietly opened and closed behind him. Slender arms wrapped around his neck.

“Welcome home.” He did not need to turn around to know whose arms those were.

Nezumi hummed, running the fingers of one hand slowly up Shion’s jaw, following the trace of the red scar absently, as if by habit. The other hand moved upward to comb through his hair, smoothing back the still snow-white locks. Shion usually kept it trimmed short, but now it was becoming unkempt, the way it had looked when he was a teenager. He knew that Nezumi liked it longer, liked running his fingers through it and watching the way it shimmered slightly in the sunlight. A small shiver went down his spine.

“Did you eat yet?”

“No. Did you?”

Shion shook his head. “I wanted to finish this first,” he said, nodding at the pile of quizzes on his desk. “It took longer than I was expecting, but I’m almost done.”

Nezumi pulled Shion’s head back so that it rested against his abdomen. Shion could feel the barest layer of fat there, the effect of months of regular, full meals and days spent striding across a stage instead of traversing the wide wilderness on foot.

“You do that too often, get so caught up in work that you forget to eat.”

Shion sighed. He and Nezumi had argued about this before, and he couldn’t see the point in continuing the argument now. “I haven’t forgotten. I can make something after I’ve finished.”

Both of Nezumi’s hands were running over his scalp, massaging away the tension headache that had begun to tug at the corner of Shion’s attention. “I’ll cook. I don’t have homework.”

“Thank you.”

Nezumi’s fingers continued to run through Shion’s hair, gentle and soothing. Shion smiled and closed his eyes, still not quite able to believe that those hands belonged to Nezumi, that Nezumi was living here in this apartment with him, that Nezumi returned to it every night after his rehearsals had ended for the day and let Shion press their lips together every night before they fell asleep. All these moments they were able to share were beautiful and precious to him, no matter how mundane. Just as when they had lived together ten years ago, Nezumi’s reappearance in his life had led him to pay closer attention to it, had made him see beauty and meaning where there had previously been a peaceful but dull sameness to his daily world. The way the setting sunlight made the room glow fiery orange, the low cadence of human voices in the street audible through the open window, the scent of wind and rain that clung to Nezumi’s jacket—it was all sharp and clear and vivid, and nearly overwhelmed his senses.

“Hey.”

Nezumi’s hands did not cease their motion. “Hm?”

“I want to have sex tonight.”

Nezumi became silent and still. He then bent Shion’s head further backward so that clear gray eyes met Shion’s, upside-down. There was the barest trace of worry in the set of his jaw. “Are you sure?”

Shion nodded. “We’ll be more careful than last time.”

Nezumi’s eyes flashed and then softened, and then he smiled—still a rare occurrence, Shion had noticed, and one that only ever happened when they were alone—and ran his hands down Shion’s neck to his chest, slipping them under the thin cotton of his shirt.

Shion shuddered, and Nezumi laughed. Warm breath ghosted against the back of Shion’s neck. “We don’t have to wait until tonight,” he suggested, his voice low as he rubbed distracting circles against Shion’s skin.

Shion managed to shake away the hot sensation pooling deep within him. “Let me finish this, and then we can eat dinner, like you want me to.” He reached up to pull Nezumi near enough to kiss. His skin was cool but his mouth was warm. “Then I can give you my full attention,” he said, taking care to whisper the words tantalizingly close to Nezumi’s ear. A low thrum of approval rose from the back of Nezumi’s throat.

He pulled his hands out of Shion’s shirt and stood up straight again. “I look forward to it.” He caressed Shion’s hair one more time and went into the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

It had taken them quite some time to reach this point. Nezumi had been willing to agree to Shion’s request to go slowly, if for no other reason than that it seemed fair. He let Shion decide how fast they went; he did not press him, or even comment on the pace Shion chose. It was clear to him that Shion exercised so much caution because he was still healing—although from what, Shion had yet to explain. It had been several months since they had been reunited, and still, Nezumi had only a vague understanding of what Shion had done and experienced in the eight years he’d spent on No. 6’s Restructural Committee.

The nightmares were Shion’s, now. It was now Shion who tossed and kicked at night, and often barely slept at all; and even when Nezumi pressed himself close and ran soothing hands over his back, Shion did not always settle peacefully. He would wake with a shout instead, wide-eyed and shaking and gasping for breath. Shion had told Nezumi once that he slept better with Nezumi near—which made Nezumi wonder what he had been like before.

Shion allowed Nezumi more closeness in sleep than he did awake, in the beginning. For weeks Shion had kept a measured distance between them, barely allowing hands to brush together; but every evening had ended with a sweet, achingly brief good night kiss, followed by the two of them slipping into Shion’s too-small bed, Shion wrapping his arms around Nezumi, or resting his head on Nezumi’s chest, or letting Nezumi press himself against Shion’s back. But slowly their waking distance had closed, too: Shion laced his fingers with Nezumi’s, leaned against him while they read together, let his goodnight kisses linger. He had tackled Nezumi in a joyful hug when he had gotten a lead role in his new theater company’s next show; further embraces were followed by increasingly less chaste kisses; and finally, finally—after the summer break when they had visited Karan, after Shion had begun a new year at school, after they had settled into a mostly comfortable routine in their new, larger apartment—Shion had come home after a long evening of curriculum meetings and straddled Nezumi where he sat reading on the couch, capturing his mouth in a series of desperate, needy kisses.

“What do you want, Shion?” Nezumi had managed to ask, already a little breathless from the insistence of Shion’s kisses, and more than a little aroused.

Shion’s reply had been crude and unambiguous. Both of them were ready and eager; but somewhere in their eagerness and their hasty repositioning, Shion had lost his balance and sunk down fully onto Nezumi before either was ready for it. Nezumi yelled in surprise as Shion gasped in pain—it was too much sensation too fast, and the intensity had been too great to be pleasurable. Shion collapsed against him, breathing too quickly and shallowly, sweat beading on his forehead and eyes screwed shut. Nezumi shifted in an instinctive attempt to relieve the pressure on himself, but Shion cried out at the movement, and Nezumi froze, watching the strain on Shion’s face.

“Shion.”

Shion had said nothing, only dug his fingers deeper into Nezumi’s arms.

“Can you lift up?”

Shion took a deep breath and nodded, and Nezumi could see him trying to push himself onto his knees; but his legs began to shake, and he barely managed to lift himself an inch before he fell back down again with another gasp.

“Shion, you have to relax. It’s only going to hurt more if you don’t.”

Nezumi ran his hands over Shion’s back, murmuring into his ear. Shion’s breathing slowed. He hissed through his teeth as Nezumi carefully lowered him down and pulled out. Their eyes met for a moment, and Nezumi saw the lingering pain in Shion’s face before he rolled onto his side and hid his face in the back of the couch.

When Nezumi returned to Shion with the loose sweatpants and the bottle of painkiller he had requested, Shion—to Nezumi’s surprise—had smiled at him and pressed himself up, wincing slightly at the motion. He’d grabbed Nezumi’s hand before he could turn away again, tugging him down onto the couch beside him so that he could rest his head in Nezumi’s lap. Nezumi ran his fingers through Shion’s hair, and Shion’s eyes shut, his breathing smooth and even again.

“Is it still painful?”

Shion grimaced. “It’s not that bad. The ibuprofen will help.”

Nezumi ran his knuckles up and down Shion’s spine. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Shion’s eyes opened, and gave Nezumi a kind smile. “I know. It was an accident.”

Nezumi ran his thumb across Shion’s forehead, and Shion closed his eyes again and hummed, low and content. His arms wrapped around Nezumi’s waist, and he buried his face into Nezumi’s stomach.

“Nezumi?”

“Hm?”

“Will you sing for me?”

Nezumi laughed softly. He ran his fingers through Shion’s hair, and then let them wander over the rest of his body, soothing away its tension as a wordless melody crossed his lips. Shion’s hold on him slackened; he had soon fallen asleep. He had still been asleep an hour later, not stirring even when Nezumi carried him to the bed, nor had he woken when Nezumi slipped into bed beside him, only nestled himself nearer to the warmth of Nezumi’s body. The next morning Nezumi had awoken to find Shion curled around him, his breathing deep and even. When Shion finally did wake, it was with a groan, and when Nezumi had asked him how he was feeling, he’d only scowled and hid his face in Nezumi’s chest.

The memory of this incident played clearly in Nezumi’s mind as they made, ate, and cleaned up dinner. It was evidently on Shion’s mind, too—once the last clean plate had been dried and put away slender arms wrapped around his waist, murmuring lips pressed against the skin at the back of his neck, and a small bottle was placed in his hand.

“We’ll go slowly, this time,” he whispered, close to Nezumi’s ear.

Shion was surprisingly adept at this sort of deliberate, sensual touch, considering how little experience he had. Slender fingers danced over Nezumi’s body, feather-light in some moments and insistent and firm in others. Before Shion, Nezumi had been largely uninterested in such drawn-out foreplay, this exploration of body and breath; he had generally opted to skip it, along with any kind of intimacy after the act. But with Shion it didn’t feel like pointless indulgence. These were rare moments when Shion would open himself completely, would bare his soul to Nezumi, and Nezumi could sense Shion’s doubt, his fear that Nezumi would take advantage of his vulnerability and hurt him—but Shion did it anyway, and Nezumi would slit his own throat before betraying that trust.

“It isn’t fair,” Shion said, afterwards, fingers resting lightly on Nezumi’s arm. Pink flush painted his cheeks, and his breathing was still heavy.

“What isn’t?”

“Your beauty. It’s too much for a single human.”

“Do you have to say such sentimental nonsense out loud?” Nezumi’s gaze softened and he reached out to run his fingers through Shion’s white hair. He was often amazed that it had lost none of its lustre in the intervening years. “You’re beautiful, too, you know.”

The corner of Shion’s mouth twitched. “You’re the only one who thinks that,” he said, ruefully.

“Perhaps, but I’m also the only one whose opinion matters.”

Shion laughed, a free, clear sound that made Nezumi’s heart rise in his chest. He shifted himself closer so that there was barely an inch of space between them.

A warm silence fell over the room.

“It feels so surreal, sometimes, to have you back,” Shion said, softly. “I’m afraid I’m going to wake up and this will all have been a dream.”

Nezumi took Shion’s hand and placed it on his own chest.

“I assure you that I am very much real, and this is definitely not a dream.”

“I know,” Shion said. “It just feels that way, sometimes.”

Nezumi didn’t know how to counter Shion’s doubt, so pulled him close in silence. But this seemed to be enough for the other man, as he nestled his head under Nezumi’s chin and shut his eyes with a contented sigh. His breathing steadied, and then slowed; he had settled into sleep.

As he watched the rhythmic rise and fall of Shion’s chest, Nezumi felt that he understood what Shion meant. It didn’t seem possible for the two of them to be here, safe and whole, after everything they had endured and a decade of separation. Their reunion indeed seemed like a miracle.

Both of them were so changed as to be unrecognizable in some ways; and in others, it was as if the past ten years had not passed at all. Shion had grown into a calm, carefully-spoken man who held himself with a quiet sort of confidence which Nezumi knew could only be acquired through experience and toil. He still laughed and smiled; he still loved animals and children; he was still thoughtful and kind. But he had learned the adult art of wearing masks, of concealing inner emotion with outer neutrality. He no longer seemed too hot and bright to touch. Whatever had once burned within him, seeking freedom, now seemed content with its containment.

Shion had finally learned to guard his heart, and Nezumi was no longer certain that this was a good thing.

Still, he admired this version of Shion. This was a Shion who had sunk his teeth into life and held on. He had done what Nezumi had once believed to be impossible: he had seen the truth of the world around him and not only refused to turn away from it, but forged a path forward towards a better future. Nezumi was convinced of this, even if Shion was not.

Nezumi was less certain of the ways in which he himself had changed. Shion would have been better at recognizing the differences, but if he noticed them, he rarely said so. Nezumi had asked him about it only once.

“You were always kind,” Shion had said. “You’ve just stopped pretending not to be.”

Nezumi was not sure that Shion was right. It bothered him, that he did not know.

Shion’s palm still rested against his chest. Nezumi curled his own fingers around Shion’s and held them there. They were neither smooth and soft like they had been when Shion had lived in Chronos, nor rough and calloused as they had become when he lived in the West Block. They were slender and strong and nimble and sometimes, like now, stained with ink.

Shion was right. Moments like this were too perfect to be believed. And yet, Nezumi knew—from the firm hand pressed against his skin, gentle breath warming his chest, and soft hair tickling his chin—that it was undeniably real. 

 

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I took down a bunch of chapters because I thought I was going to have to retcon a bunch of stuff - this one isn't super different than it was before but future chapters will have more changes. I'm going to try to reupload them approximately weekly for a while. Happy holidays y'all--

* * *

 

 _Thou_ shunn’st _no question! Ponder_ — _is there none_

_Thy heart must answer, though thine ear would shun?_

_And deem’st thou me unknown too? Gaze again!_

_At least thy memory was not given in vain._

_Oh! Never canst thou cancel half her debt_ —

_Eternity forbids thee to forget._

 

-Lord Byron, _Lara_ , Canto I

 

* * *

 

 

The bar was trendy and upscale, unlike the cheap dives the theater company usually crashed after long rehearsals, all bright lights and sleek metal surfaces free of smoke stains and grime. The difference in its patrons, however, was only that they wore flashier clothing and paid more money for their drinks. Several of these patrons approached Rin while they sat together at the bar, and each time she brusquely turned them down.

“I thought that if I brought you, everyone would assume we were together, and would leave me alone,” Rin said. She was slowly sipping from a small glass of something hard and amber-colored. “It doesn’t seem to have worked.”

“You’re old enough to be my mother.”

“Hardly. Besides, plenty of men are into that.”

“You think I look like the kind of man who’s interested in older women?”

Rin looked him up and down. “Yes,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

Nezumi snorted. “You don’t look wealthy enough to be with me.”

“That might be true,” she conceded. She let out a theatrical sigh and propped her chin on her hand. “You’ll have to tell me what your secret is.”

“What secret?”

Rin smiled at him ruefully. “To getting people to leave you alone."

Nezumi took a large sip of his drink. It was bitter and not nearly strong enough. “A sharp blade usually does the trick.”

“Ha ha.” She frowned. “I’ve never seen anyone play a more convincing prostitute on stage, but you can manage to be the least approachable person here. There’s got to be a secret to it.”

“I’m not trying to take anyone home tonight.”

“Neither am I.” She scanned him thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s that you really do look like you might slit someone’s throat.”

He narrowed his eyes and twisted his features into a wicked grin. “Would you believe me if I told you that I have?”

“I have no idea,” she said, fixing her own gray eyes on his face. “You refuse to talk about your private life at all. All I know is that you showed up here one day looking for work with no credentials or even an official ID. You very well could be an escaped criminal from another city.” She raised an eyebrow. “Or you could be running away from your past for other reasons.”

Nezumi chose not to reply, only took another sip of his drink.

“Hit the nail on the head, did I?” Rin laughed. “That’s fine. You can keep your secrets. People are entitled to their privacy, after all.”

“Thanks.”

“You should be careful, though.”

“Why is that?”

“Because secrets have a way of coming around to bite you in the ass one day.”

“Thanks for the advice, O wise and benevolent elder,” he said, mock grave.

She elbowed him, hard, and it came close to forcing a laugh out of him.

Rin was the only one who dared venture this close to Nezumi, wholly undeterred by his coldly civil exterior. The other members of their theater company seemed to fear Nezumi, a situation which satisfied him perfectly. Nezumi felt a grudging sort of respect for Rin, but he held little more than contempt for the rest. While they were excellent actors, they shared a habit of dragging unnecessary drama off the stage and into their personal lives which Nezumi found immensely irritating. Its only benefit was that it made his return to Shion in the evening that much more of a relief.

Shion was incapable of theatrics. With him there was only honesty and silence—and there had been altogether too much of the latter, recently.

“Speaking of your privacy,” Rin said, grinning into her nearly empty glass, “I had a bet with Christoph that I could get you to admit whether you were single or not, and I was hoping you’d settle it for us.”

“You’ve rather shown your hand, there, haven’t you?” Nezumi said easily. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” Rin said, rolling her eyes. “But Christoph does. And about half a dozen others, too. There’s been a great deal of speculation on the topic, and to be honest I’m bored of it all.”

Nezumi snorted. “People need to mind their own damn business,” he said, swallowing the rest of his drink.

“I agree,” Rin said. “But I’m the only person you’ll talk to at all, so they think they can pester me about it.”

“You can tell them to fuck off. I’m not available.” A vivid image of Shion on his knees, gazing up at him with wide eyes and red parted lips flashed through his mind. It made it difficult to think about anything else.

“So you do have someone.”

“Yeah,” Nezumi said, his mind still full of Shion. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Rin gave him a skeptical sideways glance. “Then you should probably make it known. I don’t think anyone’s going to be convinced by ‘not available.’”

“That’s unfortunate.” 

“It is,” Rin agreed. “So, who is this someone who makes you unavailable?”

“His name is Shion. He’s a schoolteacher.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed that was your type.” Nezumi didn’t bother asking what she thought his ‘type’ was supposed to be. “Do you live together?”

“Yes.”

“So it’s serious, then.” Nezumi chose not to respond to this, either, but Rin pressed on. “How long have you been together?”

“A while. What about you?” Nezumi asked, tired of her questions.

“What about me?”

He gestured towards her with his empty glass. “Do you have someone?”

Rin let out a mirthless laugh and slapped her hand against his back. “That’s a story for another day, sonny boy.” She laughed harder at Nezumi’s scowl. “I get it, okay? I’ll stop prying.”

“How kind of you.” Nezumi called over the bartender to close out his tab.

“What, leaving already? Did I offend you that much?”

Nezumi rolled his eyes. “I have someone to return to. Isn’t that what you wanted to hear?”

Rin just waved cheekily at him as he pushed his way out the door.

The air outside nipped at his skin and rushed through his lungs. It was refreshing. No. 5 was a pretty enough sight by day, with its winding roads and river and pastoral hills visible in every direction, but Nezumi strongly preferred it by night, when its nosy, bustling citizens retreated indoors and the city could be heard breathing in the silence they left behind.

The only other person on the street was the theater manager, an electronic cigarette in his mouth.

“That shit’s bad for you, you know,” Nezumi said, by way of greeting.

“So is alcohol,” Gerente replied, blowing menthol scented vapor in Nezumi’s direction. “And showing up late to rehearsal.”

As usual, he was meticulously dressed, in a tailored suit in heather gray and pointed black shoes. He was somewhere in middle age but still gangly as a teenager. Nezumi sometimes had the idle thought that he looked like a stick bug.

“That was one time,” Nezumi said. “Everyone else does it constantly.”

“Everyone else isn’t still on their probationary period.” He scratched his chin, which was covered in several days’ worth of stubble. “It was a school holiday that day, if I remember correctly.”

Nezumi tensed. “So?”

“Did you get confused because your boyfriend had the day off?”

Nezumi shoved his hands deeper in his pockets and wrapped his fingers around his knife, more out of instinct than because he felt threatened by this toothpick of a man. “Where did you get that idea from?"

Because of course his manager was right: Shion hadn’t set his alarm that morning, and when Nezumi finally woke Shion had pinned Nezumi to the bed rather than letting him get up and ready for work. He hadn’t shared the details of this event with anyone at the theater, of course.

Gerente pulled his communicator out of his pocket and showed Nezumi a text message that had been sent to him, Christoph, and what looked like half a dozen others: _‘Taken. Male schoolteacher. Living together, sounds serious.’_

“So much for respect of privacy,” Nezumi said smoothly, masking his own irritation. “Rin’s conniving, isn’t she?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Gerente replied, evenly. “Savvy, maybe. Punctual.”

“She pried into my life and then wouldn’t talk about hers. That’s not quite fair, is it?”

Gerente turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. “Are you sure you want to know? It’s more tragedy than romance with her.”

“I know plenty about tragedy.”

The taller man shrugged, and stared down the empty street. “She’s like you. She just showed up in this city one day, looking for work. I don’t know where she’s from.”

“What’s tragic about that?”

Gerente coughed. It was a fake, uncomfortable one; he was a terrible actor, worse than Shion. “She was married, once. Ayami was some kind of teacher, too, if I remember correctly. They were mad about each other.”

“What happened?”

“She died,” Gerente said, quietly. “We were on tour in No. 1, and Ayami caught some sort of rare disease the doctors had never seen before. Rin didn’t make it back in time to say goodbye.”

A distant pair of headlights grew brighter as the bus trundled towards them up the street. Nezumi expected Gerente to say something else, but the man let the silence linger, disturbed only by the obscene rumbling of the bus. He shoved his electronic cigarette into his pocket and went back into the bar. 

Nezumi knew better than to feel pity for Rin. People died, and rarely at convenient times; it was simply a fact of living. Still, this new knowledge seemed to be stuck at the edge of his mind, unable to be brushed away. Nezumi remembered what he had felt when he had returned to No. 6 after over a decade of traveling alone, only to learn that Shion was no longer there. What would he had done if he had found that Shion was truly gone? Would he ever have been able to shake off his guilt? Or would it have been another burden he would carry for the rest of his days?

_You cannot fulfill a promise to a ghost._

Nezumi shook himself. He leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the bus window. Loss was endurable. He and Shion both knew this; and apparently, so did Rin.

 

Shion was still awake when he returned, sitting up in bed reading. He reacted with some surprise when Nezumi greeted him with a kiss and a gentle squeeze of his shoulder, but said nothing; he only smiled up at Nezumi, bemused.

“I told you not to wait up for me.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Shion said, putting his tablet down. Its screen showed one of the dense journal articles he seemed to have become fond of recently. “Did you have fun?”

Nezumi could feel Shion’s eyes following him as he prepared for bed. “‘Fun’ isn’t the word I would use, no.”

“Why, what happened?”

“People sticking their noses where they don’t belong and asking too many personal questions, that’s what happened.”

“You used to tell me that I did that.” Shion’s mouth curled into a wry smile. “Remember?”

Nezumi found himself smiling, too. “All too well. You seem to have broken the habit, thankfully.”

The tinge of Shion’s expression turned to tiredness. He shrugged. “I learned the value of one’s privacy when you were gone.”

‘ _When you were gone.’_ That was always how Shion phrased it. As if Nezumi had stepped out to get groceries, instead of vanished for ten years. 

“Speaking of you,” Nezumi said, “I had to tell the people at the theater about us.” 

“They didn’t already know?”

“Were they supposed to?”

“I don’t know,” Shion said, simply. “What did you tell them about us?”

“That we’re together, which makes me unavailable.”

Shion looked rather pleased by this. “I’m glad that you’re no longer so ashamed of me that you feel the need to keep me a secret,” he said, lightly sarcastic. Nezumi threw his sweaty undershirt at Shion’s face. “Hey!”

“Don’t be stupid. You know it isn’t like that.”

“Tell me how it is, then,” Shion demanded.

Nezumi hooked one finger under Shion’s chin and jerked it upward to place a searing kiss on his lips. Shion hummed smugly.

“You can’t do that every time you don’t want to answer my questions, you know.”

“Like you mind.” He seated himself beside Shion. “How was school?”

“It was good. Uneventful,” Shion said. “I didn’t know how to make titrations interesting, so Anna suggested I make the lab a sort of puzzle. The students were frustrated at first but nearly all of them figured it out by the end. They did well.”

The quiet joy in Shion’s voice managed to temper Nezumi’s unsettled mood, if only a little. “You really do like teaching, huh?”

“I do,” Shion said, happy in his usual subdued way. “I know that I’m doing something worthwhile.” His face fell. “And I don’t have to compromise my own morality in order to make progress.”

Nezumi stretched his arm out to run his fingers through Shion’s hair. Shion closed his eyes and leaned his head against Nezumi’s palm. There were dark circles under his eyes; he looked exhausted.

“The nightmares have been getting worse,” Nezumi said.

Shion’s forehead creased. “They were getting better. They stopped for a while after you returned.”

“And now they’re getting worse again.”

Shion sighed, opening his eyes to meet Nezumi’s. “I don’t know how to make them stop. I’m sorry, Nezumi, I know it wakes you up—”

“You think that’s what bothers me? Don’t be stupid, Shion,” Nezumi said, tousling his hair.

“Then what does bother you?”

“That we don’t talk about the nightmares.”

Shion shook his head. “They’re just dreams, Nezumi. They don’t mean anything.”

“You know that isn’t true. They’re happening almost every night now. It’s preventing you from sleeping.”

“Nezumi, I’m really okay,” Shion insisted. “The nightmares don’t bother me, I’m used to them.” He attempted a blithe smile that Nezumi knew was a façade. “And anyways, I don’t need that much sleep.”

Shion was lying. Two nights ago, Nezumi had woken to Shion thrashing beside him and had been unable soothe him back to stillness. When Shion had finally started awake, he had turned to Nezumi, eyes wide with terror, and then hid his face in his pillow. He’d jerked away when Nezumi tried to place a hand on his shaking shoulders, and Nezumi had been able to do nothing for him but sing softly.

“I’m sorry.” Shion had repeated it, over and over. But when Nezumi had asked Shion what he was sorry for, Shion hadn’t answered.

Shion reached out to put his hand on the side of Nezumi’s face. “You’re worried about me,” he said, as if it were the solution to a puzzle he had just untangled.

Nezumi covered Shion’s hand with his own. “Of course I am,” he said, letting Shion pull him close and kiss him. “You’re a worrying person.”

“I don’t want you to worry about me,” Shion said softly, his forehead resting against Nezumi’s.

“Then you need to explain to me exactly what is going on with your ‘just dreams.’”

Shion sighed, and leaned away again. “Okay,” he said, quietly. “But not tonight.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

Shion fixed him with a chilly, raised-eyebrow frown. It was the one he used whenever Nezumi exhibited any amount of impatience, and Nezumi felt the reprimand.

“When you’re ready,” he amended, and was rewarded by another kiss.

“Thank you,” Shion whispered.

Nezumi pressed his lips to Shion’s forehead. “Now go to sleep,” he said, with a small smile.

Shion smiled back at him. He didn’t smile as much now, Nezumi had noticed, and when he did, it was usually in this tired, quiet way. “I will, once you get in bed too.”

Nezumi rolled over Shion and pulled both of them down into the mattress, throwing a blanket over their tangled bodies. Something about it made Shion laugh. The sound spread warmth throughout the room.

Shion slid his arms under Nezumi’s and pulled him close. Nezumi could feel his breath warming the back of his neck.

“We usually do this the other way around,” he commented.

“It just seemed like you needed it.” Shion sounded more drowsy than anything else. “Do you want to switch?” 

“No,” Nezumi answered, letting his hands rest on Shion’s. To be held by another person and to feel their warmth was to know you were both alive. This was something he had learned from Shion.

“Good,” Shion murmured. “Good night, Nezumi.”

Nezumi smiled, even if it was wasted where Shion couldn’t see it. “Good night.”

 

* * *

 

“Anna, can I ask you about something?”

Anna looked up from her emails, grateful for an excuse to ignore them for a moment. “Sure,” she said. “Is it about titrations again?”

As part of the experimental science curriculum the school was piloting, the students stayed with the same teacher for their required three years of science classes, rather than switching teachers each year for each new subject. Shion seemed far less comfortable with this year’s chemistry coursework than he had the previous year’s biological sciences, even though he’d demonstrated full mastery of the subject on the qualification exams. She’d assured him that the second year of teaching would be far easier than the first, but had found that—unfortunately for Shion—this was not exactly the case, as he bombarded her with even more questions than he had the year before. She didn’t mind; she was mostly glad that he cared enough to ask. It did feel like having one extra student, sometimes. 

Shion shook his head. He turned his tablet around to show her. “Did you write this?”

Anna could guess what it was that Shion had found, and sure enough, what he had pulled up on his tablet was an all-too-familiar journal article dated five years previous: ‘Novel development of cooperative group behavior among related species of arboreal arachnids.’ She pushed the tablet back towards Shion. “Not by myself. Half the writing is my advisor’s.” 

“But this is your research,” Shion said. “Right?”

“Yes,” Anna said, brusquely, hoping Shion would take the hint and drop the subject. “How did titrations go this week?”

Shion looked at her with his head tilted to the side in puzzlement. “Why wouldn’t you want to talk about it? I mean, I remember when this was published, it was groundbreaking, to see solitary predators self-organizing on that scale and complexity—”

“I know what the paper is about, thank you very much,” she snapped. She expected Shion to be more put-off by this, but he just silenced himself and smiled in his usual kind way.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t pry.”

“No, it’s okay,” she sighed. She was twirling a lock of hair around her finger so tightly it was starting to tangle. “I nose into your life plenty, it’s only fair for you to ask about mine. It’s just…”  

_I don’t want to talk about that time. I don’t even want to think about it._

Anna decided on the truth, although not all of it. “That was a difficult period of my life.”

“Oh,” Shion said, as if that made perfect sense to him. “Do you mind me asking why?”

Anna hesitated. Shion was still smiling at her. He was a stranger person than she had realized, at first—and he had already seemed fairly strange, with that white hair and red scar. Sometimes, she thought about the story he had told her about his life in No. 6, and it made her shudder. How could a person endure all that—done everything he’d done—and be sitting here, in this brightly lit classroom that smelled vaguely of acetone and adolescent body odor, with his plain boxed lunch and plain white shirt, asking Anna questions about grading policies as if he were a normal, overwhelmed young teacher?

The truth was that Anna didn’t know how to explain it. She’d only ever talked about it before with Nick, and she knew Nick understood, because he’d been there—they’d endured that time together. That had made it bearable. Shion was still just a coworker, in the end, even if they had grown into something like friends over the past year. She usually managed to keep the memories out of her daily thoughts, but they began to play in her mind’s eye now, just as vivid as they had been half a decade ago.

Most of her classmates had found jobs after finishing university, but Anna had stayed on as a researcher, working towards an advanced degree. She’d done more difficult coursework, spent weeks and months in the field, stayed up late into the night writing reports and analyzing data and running experiments on the samples she’d collected. Somewhere along the way she and Nick had moved in together and gotten engaged, but even then it had felt like they rarely ever saw each other. Her friends were getting married and starting families and buying houses, and she and Nick struggled to pay their rent each month with only the wages of a graduate assistant and a baker’s apprentice. Anna and Nick both loved their work—there was just too much of it, and not enough time, and not enough money.

That was half of it. That was the half she wasn’t sure Shion would understand—Shion, who, by the sound of it, had lived through much worse.

The bell rang, and Anna let out a sigh of relief. “Another time,” she said, as she flew out of the classroom.

 

* * *

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The changes to this chapter are mostly to the second half, although all of it has been edited.

* * *

 

_He distrusted her affection; and what loneliness is more lonely than distrust?_

-George Eliot, _Middlemarch_

* * *

  

“Are you coming to the show tonight?”

Nezumi stood in the bedroom doorway in nothing but his boxers, one of his many black shirts in his hand. Shion’s gaze lingered over the scar on his left shoulder. Sometimes Shion would see torn flesh there, wet and shining red; but today there was only healed skin, taut and smooth.

“Of course,” Shion said, packing his computer away into his bag. “Why, do you not want me there?”

“‘Course I do, idiot.”

Shion closed his eyes and breathed out through his nose. “Nezumi.”

Nezumi pulled the shirt over his head and poured himself a mug of coffee. “What?”

“I don’t like it when you call me an idiot.”

Nezumi’s head snapped around and silver eyes scanned his face. “You’ve never told me that,” he said, his voice carefully light and neutral.

“I know. I’m telling you now.”

Nezumi put his mug down and turned to Shion. “I know that you aren’t actually an idiot.”

“Then don’t call me one,” Shion said, smiling thinly.

The expression on Nezumi’s face was difficult to read. It didn’t worry him. He was used to problems far worse than Nezumi’s moods.

“Okay,” Nezumi said slowly. “I won’t.”

“Thanks.” Shion smiled genuinely this time before turning back to the lunch he was packing.

Nezumi stood motionless at Shion’s side, watching as he pulled a container of leftover rice out of the fridge and scooped a portion out into a smaller container that was already half full of steamed vegetables.

“Shion.”

“Yeah?”

Nezumi’s eyes were narrowed and his forehead was creased. “Are you angry with me?”

Shion almost laughed, but managed to hold it in. He shook his head. “Not at all. You can’t know the things I think and feel unless I tell you. Right?”

Nezumi took in a long, slow, breath. “Right.”

“I’m a little out of practice,” Shion admitted, nudging his shoulder against Nezumi’s. “So you’ll have to be patient with me.”

Shion let Nezumi slide his arm around his waist. “‘Patience’ is such a loaded word with you,” he murmured. Soft lips brushed against Shion’s cheek. “I suppose you’d like me to do the same thing."

“It would be nice. But I won’t ask you to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

Nezumi kissed him properly this time, light and short. His arm was still firm around Shion’s torso. Nothing but breath passed his lips, however, and Shion decided that he had pushed far enough for the moment. It wasn’t even eight in the morning yet, anyway.

Shion flashed Nezumi a slightly cheeky grin. “In the interest of full disclosure, I’m not a fan of ‘dumbass,’ either.”

Nezumi rolled his eyes, but Shion caught the way the corners of his mouth turned upward before he disappeared into the bedroom. “What would you rather I call you, then?” he asked, his voice muffled by the intervening wall.

“My name works well enough for everyone else,” Shion retorted.

“You’re no fun at all, you know that?”

“My students tell me that all the time,” Shion said, laughing. Heavy droplets had begun pelting the windows. He shrugged on his waterproof jacket and his computer bag. “I’m heading out.”

Nezumi reappeared, now fully clothed. “Have a good day at school, Mr. Shion” he said, with a rare soft-eyed, almost shy smile.

Shion wrapped his free arm around Nezumi in a gentle hug, and was relieved to feel Nezumi’s hand on the small of his back in return.

“See you later, Nezumi.”

* * *

“Mr. Flower—”

“ _George_ ,” Shion said, warningly.

“Mr. Shion,” George corrected, hastily. “It’s not fair to give us a quiz on a Friday.”

“Oh?” Shion had heard this complaint from the boy before. “And why is that?”

“Because it’s right before the weekend, and we’re distracted.”

“Would you rather I do it on Monday?”

George shook his head. “Then I would have to study all weekend!”

“What about Thursdays? Should I have given you the quiz yesterday, instead?”

“No, because then we wouldn’t spend much time reviewing for the quiz in class, and I would be more stressed out.”

Shion smiled at him as kindly as he could. “I think you just don’t want to take this quiz.”

George opened his mouth as if to retort, and then closed it again. His sister Cara laughed at him, and his eyes shot daggers in her direction.

“You don’t have to worry,” Shion said, “You can always re-take the quizzes, remember?”

“Yeah,” George said, sullenly.

“We asked if you wanted to study with us,” Maya reminded him, as Shion stepped away.

“I was busy.”

“You were playing computer games until one in the morning,” Cara said. “That isn’t ‘busy.’”

“Shut up!” George hissed. He leaned toward his sister and lowered his voice. “If I do badly on another quiz Mom and Dad are gonna kill me.”

“There’s nothing I can do about that now!” Cara replied. She looked around the classroom and then rolled her eyes at her brother. “Maya and I can help you study for the re-take if you bomb it today.”

“Nu-uh, not me,” Maya said, brightly. “I’m not getting caught up in your sibling problems again. Anyways, I’ll be in the hospital all next week.”

“But you’re the one that’s actually good at this!”

Mauro, who had been sitting next to George in silence until now, coughed an ‘ahem’ at his friend. “I’m just as good at this stuff as Maya is, you know.”

“So you’ll help me?” George asked, turning to Mauro with his hands clasped in earnest supplication.

Shion was accustomed to Nezumi’s exaggerated eyerolls, but even he had nothing on the melodrama of the teenagers he worked with every day. “Yes, now will you stop whining about it?” Mauro said, once his eyes had completed a full orbit in their sockets.

“I’m not whining,” George protested, crossing his arms. “And thanks.” He leaned towards Cara. “This was a lot easier when we looked more identical and could trade places with each other.”

“Is everything okay over here?” Shion asked, wryly, as he handed a stack of quizzes to their table.

“Yes,” Maya said cheerfully, while Cara stared at him, wide-eyed and caught-out, and George jumped so violently he almost knocked over his own chair.

“You’re all ridiculous,” Mauro muttered.

“Oh someone’s cranky today,” Maya said loudly. A wave of giggles swept through the previously silent classroom.

Shion shushed them, repressing laughter himself.

Ten minutes later, the bell signaling the end of the school day rang and his classroom immediately became loud and chaotic—some students protesting that they needed more time, others rushing to his desk to turn in their quiz and escape as quickly as possible out the door. George dragged his feet as he walked to the front of the classroom with his paper, refusing to make eye contact with Shion and earning a sharp command from Mauro to hurry up. Cara hung back, shoving her things into her backpack, and Maya handed in both their quizzes with her usual cheerfulness.

“Good luck with your surgery,” Shion said. “I hope it goes well.”

“Thanks, Mr. Shion.” She put both papers on his desk. “You didn’t make it very hard this time.”

Cara made a face which strongly suggested that she did not agree. She was far more comfortable with chemical concepts than she had been with last year’s biology coursework, but Shion knew his class was still not easy for her in the way it was for her friend.

“Cara, if you don’t hurry we’re gonna miss the bus.” Maya turned back to Shion. “The university library is showing old movies all afternoon, and Cara and I are going to go see _Casablanca_ ,” she told him. Shion had never heard of it; he rarely watched movies. “Do you ever do anything fun on weekends?”

“Yes, I’m actually going to see a play tonight.”

“Oh, that sounds nice.” Maya turned back to Cara. “You ready now?” Cara nodded, pulling her backpack on. “Then let’s go!” Maya sang, grabbing Cara’s hand and pulling her along. The taller girl’s face turned bright pink.

“See you later Mr. Shion!”

Shion went to the bakery with Anna after school instead of going directly home. It had been many weeks since they had done this, as his new apartment was on the other side of the river, nearer to the arts district where Nezumi worked. Shion noticed the small changes that had accumulated in this quiet corner of the city: a house that had been repainted, a new sign advertising enrollment for the nearby daycare, a black asphalt square on the street where there had once been a large pothole. Anna was also eager to point out that the café by the park had commissioned her husband’s bakery to sell some of his specialty pastries.

“Nezumi’s show opens tonight, doesn’t it?” she asked, as they rounded the corner of her street.

“Yes. It’s something contemporary, by a local playwright.”

“I was thinking of getting tickets for the Sunday show,” she said, unlocking the bakery’s rear entrance. “Nick isn’t terribly interested in theater, though, so you’ll have to tell me if it’s worth it.”

“It’ll be worth it,” Shion said, firmly.

Anna flashed him a knowing smile. “Because Nezumi’s the lead?”

“Of course.” Nezumi had the ability to transform even the dullest scene into something eloquent and captivating. Shion had seen him do so on stage now several times, although he was equally transfixed when he could persuade Nezumi to read aloud for him in private.

Nick was in the back of the bakery, pulling a tray of cookies out of the oven. His face lit up when Anna and Shion walked in.

“Welcome home, muffin,” he said, letting Anna kiss his cheek. “And you brought Shion with you! Finally decided to show your face here again, eh?”

“It’s only been a week since I was here last,” Shion said, feeling a grin warm his face. “What are those? They smell delicious.”

“Snickerdoodles,” Nick said. He winked at his wife. “They’re Anna’s favorite.”

“After your blueberry crumb muffins,” Anna said matter-of-factly. “Is Matty napping still?”

“He went down an hour ago, little guy was exhausted after daycare.”

Anna went upstairs to check on her son and Shion sat down at one of the bakery tables with a warm cookie and a large mug of hot tea. The autumn air outside was brisk but the bakery was cozy and warm, with its reddish wood paneling and shelves packed with every sort of baked good. The family that lived here felt warm and cozy, too, Shion thought, as he watched Matty crawl backwards down the stairs, Anna following him with a watchful eye and Nick beaming at the both of them.

“Shion!”

Matty ran toward him as quickly as his short, unsteady legs would take him. He was talking quite a lot now. “He’s a smart one,” Nick often said, swelling with pride. “Takes after his Mama.”

Matty pulled a small, brightly colored book out of his box of toys, pushed it into Shion’s hands, and then climbed into his lap. His little body was still warm from sleep.

“Hi, Matty,” Shion said, adjusting the squirming toddler so that he wouldn’t knock the steaming mug off the table. Matty giggled.

“I hope you weren’t planning on getting any work done,” Nick said with a laugh.

Matty shoved the picture book up toward Shion’s face. “Boog!”

“Book,” Shion corrected gently.

“He wants you to read to him,” Anna said. “Matty, remember ‘please.’”

“Read book, please,” Matty repeated. He listened with rapt attention as Shion read the story—which was not so much a narrative as it was a catalog of the sounds made by barnyard animals—and upon its conclusion, immediately demanded to read it again.

“Again?” Shion laughed. “How about a different one?”

“No!” Matty began kicking his feet as soon as he reached down to grab a different book from the box.

“Matthew!” Anna’s admonishing voice carried from the back of the store.

“Again, pease.” Matty looked up at him with a broad, cheesy smile that made him look very much like his father.

“Okay,” Shion laughed, “Because you said ‘please.’”

“Yay!” Matty settled back against Shion’s chest again. After repeating the first book, he requested a different one, halfway through which he shimmied himself out of Shion’s lap to play with his blocks on the floor.

“Didn’t realize you’d be babysitting today, huh?” Anna asked, as she came to sit with Shion, her own mug of tea in one hand and a snickerdoodle in the other.

“I don’t mind. I like children,” Shion said, smiling fondly at the toddler as he ran a toy car through his blocks, making a ‘zoom’ noise as he did so.

“Do you and Nezumi plan to have any?”

“Hm?” Shion looked up at Anna, wearing a purposeful expression of polite confusion. He was fond of children, but parenthood had never appeared to be a possibility for him. When he had been working in  No. 6, he’d had neither the time nor energy for a partner, let alone a child; he couldn’t imagine devoting himself to anyone but Nezumi, anyway. It didn’t seem responsible to risk passing down the condition he had received from the parasitic wasp to biological offspring. And while Nezumi firmly maintained his intention to stay with Shion forever, he was certain that Nezumi would vanish in an instant if he suggested adopting a child. Shion wasn’t sure how to explain any of this to Anna and Nick, however, and took a long sip of his tea instead.

“You’ll have to excuse my wife,” Nick said, with an apologetic laugh. “She has a bad habit of asking overly personal questions.”

“Sorry,” Anna said ruefully. “I was just curious.”

“No, it’s okay,” Shion said, laughing a little. “We don’t really make plans that far into the future. And I don’t think either of us is interested.” Shion ruffled Matty’s hair, and the little boy looked up at him and giggled. “I can understand why you would want to be a parent, though,” he said, smiling. Matty reached his arms up and Shion pulled him back up into his lap. Matty continued to narrate the car’s adventure in a steady murmur as it raced a wild path across the tabletop

Anna watched them fondly. “It is rewarding, parenting, and you’ve got the patience for it. But it’s not the only rewarding thing,” she said, with a shrug.

“Do you find teaching rewarding?”

“I do,” she said, after a thoughtful pause. “The research I did before that was also rewarding, in different ways.” She glanced over at her husband with a small smile on her face. “And I know Nick finds his work rewarding, too. He loves that something as simple as bread can make people so happy.”

Shion understood. His mother often said something similar.

“Anna makes me sound so noble,” Nick laughed. “The truth is that I just love to eat.”

“Oh, hush,” Anna said, waving her arm at him. “You’re very noble.”

Shion agreed. “Although I might be biased as a baker’s son.”

He stayed at the bakery until the shadows grew long against the buildings in the street, ostensibly discussing the outline for the next unit they were teaching, but mostly talking and laughing with Anna and Nick and playing and reading with Matty. He finally left for Nezumi’s show, but not without a large box of apple pastries forced upon him by Nick. Matty waved at him from Anna’s arms as he walked out the door.

Shion had never known a couple as happily married as Nick and Anna. He had only ever known his mother as a single woman, and when his father did reappear—briefly, thankfully—she had not been pleased to see him. The married people he had known in No. 6 had mostly been other Committee members and politicians who spoke of their spouses as burdens and frequently engaged in affairs; Shion had often wondered why they bothered to get married in the first place. Anna and Nick were entirely unlike those people. Their skills and interests were quite different, but they complemented each other instead of falling into conflict. In personality, Shion thought them very much alike: thoughtful, kind, and indiscriminately friendly. Indeed, he sometimes found their combined extraversion a little overwhelming; but it was a nice problem to have, to be the object of so much good-hearted attention. He was glad Matty had parents like that.

Shion sometimes wondered what made Nick and Anna’s relationship so different than all the others he had encountered. He knew that their life had not always been as comfortable as it was now, although Anna still hadn’t told him the exact details of that history. He suspected that it was because each of them was so kind individually that they could maintain the sort of partnership they had. He pondered, briefly, whether he and Nezumi were the same, but soon abandoned that line of thought. There was no point in trying to compare their situations. The nature of their relationship was different—although exactly how, Shion was not sure he could explain, not even to himself.

Still, he was not unhappy. Shion had learned to be comfortable with uncertainty; and while he might not be sure what this thing was that kept Nezumi tied to him, or even how long it would last, he would not allow this to disturb his mind. Having Nezumi at his side once again made him feel full to bursting, and he chose to be grateful for it.

* * *

The theater’s backstage hallways were concrete and sparse, in stark contrast to the stately elegance of the lobby and stage. Shion held a small package in his hands: a book, intended as a congratulatory present for Nezumi in lieu of flowers, which Shion knew he hated. Earlier he had faltered when he had been searching for something he thought Nezumi would like, finally settling on something new he could be certain Nezumi hadn’t read before.

He pulled out his communicator, wondering where Nezumi was. Nezumi had never asked him to meet him backstage before, and he was beginning to worry that he had wandered into the wrong part of the theater’s labyrinthine hallways.

“Can I help you?”

A tall, blond man about his own age approached, stopping mere inches from where Shion stood. His features were handsome and angular and his voice was melodious and warm. Shion gave him a grateful smile.

“Yes, I’m looking for Nezumi. Do you know where I can find him?”

The man’s grin broadened and his eyes became appraising. “Oh, are you his schoolteacher, then?”

“I am a teacher, yes,” Shion said, a little bemused. “My name is Shion.”

“I’m Christoph,” he said, extending his hand. His skin was very soft. “I do makeup and costumes.”

“Well, congratulations on an excellent show,” Shion said. “Do you know where Nezumi is?”

Christoph waved his hand. “The Ice Prince is probably still in his dressing room. But don’t worry, I’ll keep you company here until he’s finished preening himself.”

Shion was rather amused by this characterization; he could not say it surprised him. “How kind of you,” he replied, noticing that Christoph himself had carefully coiffed hair and wore stylish, pristine clothing.

“So then, Shion.” Christoph leaned slightly closer. “How do you know Nezumi? He’s rather mysterious, you see, so I can’t help but be curious.”

“I can imagine,” Shion said, grinning. “We met when we were children, if that’s what you mean.”

“Hmph,” he sniffed. He scanned Shion head to toe, his eyes lingering over the patch of scar at his neck. “I can see why he likes you,” he said.

Shion resisted the urge to laugh out loud. “Can you?”

“But I have to ask. What is it you see in him?”

“I’m afraid I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I mean, he’s good-looking enough, but you seem like the sort of person who’s interested in more than that.”

Shion smiled in spite of himself. “Nezumi is really a very kind person. I think he just prefers not to appear that way sometimes. It’s rather complicated.”

“Complicated,” Christoph repeated, an unpleasant sparkle in his eye.

Shion just gave him one of his blank diplomatic smiles.

“Christoph, I hope you’re behaving yourself.”

A tall, dark-haired woman Shion recognized as the show’s female lead had spoken. She and a small portion of the cast were watching them, having just come around the corner. As she came closer he could see that her eyes were gray, like Nezumi’s, and focused sharply on him.

“O ye of little faith.” Christoph rolled his eyes. “We were just talking.”

The sharp-eyed woman raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure,” she said.

“I was looking for Nezumi,” Shion said, with the same polite smile. He noticed that the attention of every person became fixed on him the moment he said it.

“This is the schoolteacher,” Christoph said, as if it explained everything.

The woman’s gray eyes scanned him carefully, and Shion had the sense that he was being appraised in a very different way than Christoph had just done. Wearing a slight smirk, she shifted her gaze to Christoph. “You still owe me for winning our bet, you know. I hope you haven’t forgotten.”

Christoph glared at her. “I haven’t.”

“I just saw Nezumi leave the dressing rooms,” another woman said. “He’ll probably be here in a minute or two.”

“It’s so rude of him to keep you waiting like this.” Christoph placed his hand on the wall beside Shion and leaned closer again. Shion had the impression that this was supposed to be intimidating.

He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll find a way to forgive him somehow.”

“So then, Shion…” Christoph moved even closer to him, forcing Shion to back up against the wall. He had shockingly blue eyes, which were now inches from Shion’s own. “What exactly is your relationship with Nezumi?”

Shion gave him another polite smile, but before he could say anything a familiar figure mercifully appeared, striding down the hallway. “There you are,” Nezumi purred, his lips curled into a seductive smirk and his eyes stormy.

“Hey—”

Nezumi pushed him up against the wall, his body pressed tightly against Shion’s and lips crashing together, one hand grasping Shion’s shoulder and the other grazing the line of his jaw. They’d shared passionate kisses before but never quite like this, with Shion trapped by the strength of Nezumi’s body and will. It sent a wild sort of thrill up his spine and heightened his senses, intense and overwhelming and _hot_ …

A loud whistle brought his attention back to the moment. The other members of the cast had been watching with apparent glee; another whistle was following by cheers and sniggers. Shion’s face burned with embarrassment. He pushed Nezumi away. Nezumi seemed perfectly unperturbed by all of this.

“He belongs to me,” Nezumi said, turning to Christoph wearing a false, sensual smile which Shion hated. “Does that answer your question?”

Christoph crossed his arms and sneered. “So he is just your toy, after all.”

Nezumi’s expression twisted into a wicked smile.

Something ugly reared in Shion’s chest. “Excuse me,” he said, drawing on the cold politeness that was still second nature to him and walking out the nearest exit with all the dignity he possessed. He could hear unkind laughter following him before it was silenced by the heavy slamming of the door.

Shion found himself in the brisk darkness of the autumn night, surrounded by other theatergoers as they spilled out the main entrance. His face began to cool and his heart rate slowed, but the relative quiet of the street did little to soothe his irritation. He headed down the street in the direction of the apartment.

It began to drizzle.

_Good. Wash it away._

“Shion.”

Shion stopped, and sighed, and turned around. Nezumi stopped short of him by a few feet, arms crossed against the damp and cold.

“You’re upset.”

Shion clapped his hands slowly. “Excellent detective work there, Mr. Holmes. Would you like a prize for figuring that one out?”

“Ha ha.” Nezumi stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

The soft-eyed worry on Nezumi’s face irritated him: it looked too much like pity. He refused to succumb to it.

“I’m going to walk back,” Shion said, even though he knew there was a bus, and that it would take him at least half an hour to get back on foot. “Alone.”

Nezumi’s brow furrowed. “Are you that angry?”

“And if I am?” Shion shoved the wrapped book into Nezumi’s stomach. “Congratulations on the show. You were captivating,” he said, his words laced with bitterness.

He turned around before Nezumi could respond, hurrying away from him down the street.

 

* * *

 

Shion returned to the apartment some twenty minutes after Nezumi did, soaking wet. There was no trace of his previous anger to be found; he looked his usual quiet, tired self.

“Hey,” he said, hanging his dripping coat over the back of a chair.

“Welcome back,” Nezumi replied coolly. “Did you have a nice walk?”

“Well, it did start pouring on me halfway through,” Shion said, sounding more amused than irritated by this turn of events. Nezumi watched him as he ruffled through the closet for a towel and then dried off his hair. It stuck up in odd places and Nezumi almost laughed at it. Shion returned a moment later in a dry shirt and the flannel pants he wore to bed now that the weather was becoming cool.

“Can I sit?”

Nezumi nodded, and made room for him on the couch.

“I want to explain some things,” Shion began, his tone calm but serious and low.

“Explain away.”

Shion leaned forward, his arms resting heavily on his thighs. Damp hair hung around his face. Nezumi wanted to reach out and brush it out of the way, but decided against it. Shion took a single, slow breath.

“I don’t think this will surprise you,” he said. “But when I was starting out on the Restructural Committee, I was still very trusting and naive, and I had to learn how to navigate the political power structures of the city the painful way. I was an easy pawn for other people to use and manipulate until I learned better. I hated it so much, Nezumi. You had taught me to be more watchful, and it took me far too long to learn how to maintain control over myself, rather than letting other people control me. I know what you did at the theater wasn’t malicious, but I suppose I couldn’t help but be reminded of all those times when something similar happened with much more serious consequences. That was why I was upset.”

“I thought I was protecting you from something like that.”

Shion sat up straight and turned to Nezumi with the quiet self-possession that had not been there ten years ago. “I have always wanted to be your equal,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “I don’t want to be protected by you, and I certainly don’t want to be your toy. I want to be able to trust you.”

The room was half-shrouded in darkness. Shion’s words hung frozen in the air between them.

Nezumi did not let his gaze stray from Shion’s face.

“I understand,” he said solemnly.

“Good.” He could see some of the tension fall from Shion’s shoulders. “I want you to be able to trust me, too. You didn’t need to rescue me. I’m not as weak as I used to be.”

“I know,” Nezumi admitted. “I think it was mostly jealousy, actually.”

Shion seemed to find this laughably absurd. “Nezumi, I waited _ten years_ for you. Do you really think that was the first time someone thought they could use their sex appeal to tempt me? It never worked, not once. You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted.”

Nezumi found himself smiling in spite of himself. There was plenty about Shion that remained hidden and mysterious, but Nezumi had no doubts about the attraction Shion felt toward him. Shion had made it perfectly clear that he loved Nezumi, even if neither of them had spoken the exact words.

“I’m sorry for overreacting, though,” Shion said.

Nezumi shook his head. “It wasn’t overreacting. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. To be honest, I was expecting you to be much angrier. That’s a thing I still can’t predict about you, I guess.”

Shion smiled with his mouth but his eyes went distant. “I found out the hard way that anger is far more of a liability than an asset,” he said. “Anger is only useful if it can be precisely controlled, and I’m—well, I’m not terribly good at controlling mine,” Shion admitted.

Nezumi knew Shion’s anger only as the cold bite that edged into his words and slid deftly under his skin; he wondered what the hot, burning version of it would feel like. The thought made liquid heat pool somewhere deep inside him.

He sniffed. “I would quite like to see that, your anger uncontrolled.”

“You really wouldn’t,” Shion said gravely. He stood up. “I’m going to bed.”

Nezumi stopped him by hooking a finger into his waistband and tugging on it gently. “You don’t want me to give you a more thorough apology first?”

Shion smiled at him, his eyes soft. He leaned down and placed a light, perfectly chaste kiss on Nezumi’s lips. “Good night, Nezumi.”

“Yeah, okay.” He felt Shion run his fingers through his hair, gentle and soothing. “Sweet dreams.”

There was the sound of the bedroom door closing, and then of Shion brushing his teeth, and then silence. Nezumi moved around the spacious but still sparse apartment they shared, shutting off lights and placing used dishes in the sink. An unread message on Shion’s communicator cast a blue glow around the kitchen from where he’d left it on the counter. Closer inspection revealed it to be a message from Anna, with an attached picture of Shion holding her son in his lap.

_Matty had so much fun today! I snapped this when you weren’t looking (sorry) but you both looked so happy, I couldn’t resist. Come back and visit soon, Nick says he’ll make snickerdoodles again! -from Matty, Nick and Anna_

Nezumi spent a long minute staring at the image after looking up what snickerdoodles were. Both Shion and the little boy were laughing. Matty was looking up at Shion, a red toy car grasped in his chubby hands, and Shion was smiling back at him, his eyes crinkled with unsuppressed mirth. Shion indeed looked happy. Happier than he’d seen him in over ten years.

_It was you who did this to him. You stole his happiness away and you can’t give it back._

A heavy sigh managed to escape his lips. Nezumi left the communicator untouched and went silently to bed.

 

* * *

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't all that different than the first version; next chapter will have more changes, and then the one after that will have (heaven forbid) actual plot. Next chapter will be up within a week or so.
> 
> This chapter is also dedicated to the shitty cheap rosé I drank while editing it.

* * *

 

 

_Though free to think and act, we are held together, like the stars in the firmament, with ties inseparable. These ties cannot be seen, but we can feel them._

-Nikola Tesla, “The Problem of Increasing Human Energy”

 

* * *

 

The cardiology department was quiet this early morning. There were six patients on the ward, all currently asleep. Two would soon be prepped for routine surgery, and another, a young man who had been transferred in the middle of the night from intensive care, had suffered a heart attack during a game of football due to a previously undiagnosed congenital defect. All were likely to make a full recovery. The medical care in No. 5 was the best available, second only to No. 6’s—although since it had become widely known that No. 6’s medical advancements were the result of what had been determined to be ‘highly unethical’ research, that city’s status in the medical world had become controversial. But when it came to cardiology, there was no controversy: No. 5 was the undisputed leader.

Which was why the last three patients were such a puzzle to the doctors. They had never seen any type of cardiovascular disease present in this way before. The first patient was in his thirties, a laborer who had been working on the railway project up north. He had originally been admitted under the suspicion of heart attack, but his symptoms weren’t quite right. His heartbeat was irregular, he had chest pain, shortness of breath, and was vomiting, all typical for a heart attack; but as they began to treat him, the doctors could find nothing physically wrong with his heart. They had managed to stabilize him, but soon after the patient slipped into a coma. A black spot the size of a human hand appeared over his heart, indicating that an infection might have been present; but every test they ran came back negative, down to the molecular level. The patient had been brought to the cardiology ward for further monitoring.

Dr. Khalil clicked his tongue. This patient perplexed him; but to see perplexing combinations of symptoms was not all that unusual in his line of work. He had been confident that his condition would turn out to be something mundane that was simply presenting strangely.

Until two more patients came in with the exact same set of symptoms.

All three patients had been working at the railway construction site up north. A second man had come in two days after the first, and a woman had been brought in the day after that. All were in their thirties and otherwise perfectly healthy. The events had caused no small amount of panic on the construction site, which had been temporarily evacuated. A few of the more paranoid workers had come to the hospital asking to be examined for the same disease but had to be turned away—the doctors simply had no idea what to test for.

Dr. Khalil clicked his tongue again. It was troublesome. He had scoured patient histories and run every search he could think of on the medical literature, even pulled out old textbooks he hadn’t referenced since he was a student, and still come up empty-handed. No one else on staff was sure what to do. Still, they were not without hope: between the senior staff with decades of experience, and the youthful creativity of the younger doctors, they were confident this was a puzzle they would solve. No. 5 had the best cardiologists in the world, after all.

 

* * *

 

Something hit Nezumi in the shin, hard enough to roused him. He woke to find Shion thrashing beside him.

“Hey. Shion.” Nezumi shook him roughly by the shoulder. There was no point in trying to calm him at this point. “Shion, wake up. It’s just a dream.”

“No!” Shion said, eyes still screwed shut.

Nezumi paused. He knew he should wake the man, but he also wanted to know more about these nightmares Shion had, and this was the first time he’d spoken anything intelligible in his sleep.

“No what?” he asked quietly.

“I wasn’t—I didn’t have a choice!” Shion’s arm stretched out in front of him. “No, wait! Wait!”

“Shion—”

 _“Stop!"_ Shion woke with a shout. He pushed himself up, took in a long, shuddering inhale, and then folded over his knees, arms hiding his face.

Every other time this had happened, Shion hadn’t let Nezumi touch him; and so Nezumi stayed still, watching Shion’s shoulders shake with each intake of breath. But Shion reached out and grasped Nezumi’s hand in his, so tightly it felt like his bones might break.

“Shion?” Nezumi ran his non-captive hand through Shion’s hair. “It was just a dream.”

Shion sighed, and lifted his head to look at Nezumi, scowling.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he admonished. “Come here.” Shion didn’t resist as Nezumi pulled him upward, curling up against Nezumi’s chest and letting Nezumi wrap his arms around him gently. It took several minutes for Shion’s heart rate to slow and his breathing to become smooth and steady again. Nezumi could feel his own heart and mind calming too, soothed by the warm solidity of Shion’s body against his.

Shion slipped out of Nezumi’s embrace, eyes lowered in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“You can’t control a nightmare, Shion.” Nezumi pushed Shion’s bangs back and searched his face. If there was anything beyond exhaustion there, Shion hid it well. “Do you think you’ll be able to go back to sleep?”

Shion nodded. “I’m tired,” he said. He was already settling back down against his pillow. “You should go back to sleep, too.”

Nezumi agreed. He pressed himself into the bony curve of Shion’s back and held him close.

“Nezumi?”

“Hm?”

Nezumi could feel Shion’s chest expand and contract against his palm, deep and slow.

“The dreams are just about guilt,” he said, softly. “There’s nothing particularly meaningful about them.”

Nezumi settled himself closer to Shion. “I guessed that.”

“You did?”

“You never put it down, your guilt. Sometimes I’m impressed that you can carry so much weight everywhere you go without your back breaking.” Shion’s hand closed over his. “Seriously, it’s quite amazing.”

Shion nudged his head against Nezumi’s. “Stop mocking me.”

“I’m not.” Nezumi tucked his nose into Shion’s neck and pressed the words into his skin. “We need to talk about this guilt of yours, Shion.”

A sharp intake of breath. “Right now?”

“No. Right now you need to sleep.”

Nezumi felt Shion’s body relax a little as he exhaled.

“Nezumi?”

“What?”

“Thank you,” he whispered, almost inaudible.

Nezumi brushed a light kiss to Shion’s cheek. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. Go to sleep.”

 

* * *

 

Rin cornered Nezumi in the back of the theater the moment their director had finished giving them notes from the previous night’s performance. She was already dressed in a stylish, close-fitting suit for her role, and it made her appear taller than her already above-average height as she towered over him.

“Hey.”

Nezumi raised a single eyebrow. “Yes?”

“I hope we didn’t make too much trouble for you last night.”

“You didn’t.”

“Really? We were quite rude to your…” There was uncharacteristic hesitation in her voice. “Shion, did you say his name was?”

Nezumi gave a noncommittal shrug.

“He seemed upset.”

“He’s fine. He’s tougher than he looks.” Nezumi sighed, exaggerated and theatrical, tossing his head backward to address the ornate ceiling. “Besides, he was mad at me, not any of you.”

“What on earth did _you_ do?”

“Does it matter?”

“I don’t know,” Rin said, perfectly calmly. “If we had upset him, I was going to apologize. But if whatever happened was just between you two, I’ll leave it alone.”

“Then leave it alone."

“Okay,” she said, simply. The old theater seat creaked as she sat down beside him. “It is a shame, though,” she mused, her finger on her lips. “I really did want to meet him. I was curious about what kind of person he was, to be capable of shackling you down.”

“I’m not ‘shackled down.’ And it’s not like you’ll never have another chance to meet Shion, he isn’t dead.”

Rin’s eyes flashed, and Nezumi remembered too late the story their manager had told him. There was little doubt that Rin knew that Nezumi had learned about her history, even if she hadn’t mentioned it to him at all.

“You should be careful,” she said, lightly. The flashing disappeared. “Even after your little performance last night, there were quite a few people who seemed ready to steal Shion away from you, given the opportunity.”

Nezumi laughed out loud at this. “Goddamn vultures,” he said. “Thanks for the warning. I’m not worried.”

“So things are okay between the two of you?”

Rin peered into his face, forehead creased. It reminded him of a look that Shion often wore when he was worried—the genuine concern it encoded surprised him.  When was the last time someone had given him a look like that, besides Shion?

He nodded. “Why do you care?”

Rin leaned back in her seat and sighed. “Oh, maybe it’s because I feel guilty about causing problems for you. Or maybe it’s that you remind me of my younger self, and I don’t want to be forced to watch you make the same mistakes I did.” She crossed her arms and smirked. “It couldn’t possibly be that I’m a decent human being who cares about the well-being of others. Requires too much suspended disbelief, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Rin’s silvery eyes scanned the theater, now empty and silent. “I suppose it’s possible that I’ve got this entirely wrong,” she said, all her familiar laughter and mockery absent, voice serious and low. “But you strike me as the type of person who’s so used to loneliness they’ve convinced themself they don’t need anyone else.”

Nezumi watched Rin’s face warily and said nothing.

“I’ll tell you from experience that that’s a deeply unsatisfying way to walk through life.” Rin’s gaze was still directed at the stage in front of them rather than at Nezumi, and she spoke softly. “It’s tempting, to believe that you can inoculate yourself from the pain of loss by having nothing to lose. But it leaves you with no reason to keep living at all.”

Something throbbed in Nezumi’s chest. “Yeah,” he said, heavily. “I know.”

Rin turned dark grey eyes on him. “I’m sure you don’t need it. But I’m offering you my friendship anyway.”

“Friendship,” he repeated.

She stared back at him impassively.

Nezumi could hear Shion’s voice in his head. _It’s good to have friends. To have people whose company you enjoy. People you trust. Isn’t it important, Nezumi? Doesn’t everyone want that?_

Nezumi had not thought that was a thing he wanted or needed. It had taken ten years of solitary wandering for Nezumi to realize that he might have been wrong—it was that doubt that had brought him back to Shion, in the end. And even now, while the strength of Nezumi’s own desires had made him see clearly how one person could want another, the reasons why people might need each other remained murky to him.

Rin was sarcastic and nosy and teased Nezumi like a kid sibling. She irritated him in the same way Shion used to, asking too many questions and pushing the boundaries of his privacy. But she was also intelligent and perceptive and a talented actress, and Nezumi preferred her company to nearly anyone else’s, besides Shion. The strength and necessity of the ties between people might still elude him, but the time he had spent with Shion had proven to him this: to leave oneself open and vulnerable to another, as Rin was doing now, was not weakness, as he had once believed. It required bravery—and of the sort he was not sure he himself possessed.

“Fine, then.” He propped his legs up on the seat in front of him. “What now, do I sign a contract? Make a blood oath? Are we gonna have sleepovers and braid each other’s hair?”

Rin rolled her eyes. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re full of shit?”

“Possibly. I don’t recall.”

She held out her hand. “You have a communicator, I presume.”

Nezumi pulled the small handheld device out of his pocket. He didn’t like it, but Shion had insisted it was necessary. The only contacts he had saved were Shion, Gerente, and the takeout place Shion liked, and Gerente’s messages were set to automatically direct to his voicemail.

“Give it to me.” Rin rolled her eyes when Nezumi jerked back. “I’m putting my contact information in it,” she explained. “I promise I won’t bother you any more than is necessary. But if you want to talk outside of rehearsal…” Her own cliché seemed to irritate her. “Then I’ll listen.”

Nezumi’s instinctive response was sarcastic, and he pushed it aside. “Okay,” he said, handing over the device. “Thanks.”

She smiled wryly as she typed. “Do me one favor,” she said, as she handed the communicator back to Nezumi and stood up.

“What?”

“If you really love him, make sure he knows it.”

Rin swept out the back exit before he could reply.

 

* * *

 

Shion was just beginning to doze off when the sound of a key in the lock rang in his ears. It was long past the time when he usually went to bed, but his mind and body had both been restless, so he’d settled himself on the couch with a mug of tea and a familiar book.

“Welcome back,” he called softly. He watched Nezumi pull his boots and jacket off. His dark, close-fitting shirt outlined every movement of the muscles of his back and arms. “How was the show?”

“Not as good as last night’s, but good enough.” His eyes were clear and calm as he looked over at Shion. There was a small smile playing around his lips. Nezumi’s smiles were not as rare as they had once been, but Shion still frequently found himself entranced by them.

“Why, what was different?”

Nezumi didn’t respond. Instead he opened the computer that was sitting on Shion’s desk and began to type as if looking for something. A waltz soon filled the room, dreamy and elegant even through the tinny laptop speakers.

“Nezumi?”

Nezumi stood before Shion and offered his arm, bowing slightly. “Dance with me,” he commanded, his eyes soft and a gentle smile playing around his lips.

“But I’m tired,” Shion said, smiling up at Nezumi in return.

“So am I.”

Shion sighed, and put his hand in Nezumi’s, letting the other man pull him upward. The room was dark, but the slight smile on Nezumi’s face seemed to cast a golden glow around the apartment. Shion put his arm on Nezumi’s shoulder and Nezumi wrapped his around Shion’s waist, just as they had done once before over a decade ago. It was a memory that had etched a vivid, permanent spot in Shion’s mind and one that he had purposefully sealed away. How many times had he gotten lost in the memory of that perfect, precious moment, only to be forced to confront the reality that Nezumi was gone and he was utterly, completely alone? Better to leave it in the past where it belonged.

“Ready?”

Nezumi’s voice wrenched Shion back into the present. He gave a small nod.

“You’ve gotten better at this,” Nezumi said approvingly as he guided Shion with his steady, graceful movements. “Don’t tell me you’ve been practicing.”

“Of course not,” Shion said with a small laugh. “I’m just following you. But can I ask you something?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“What are you trying to prove to me?”

Because that was why Nezumi had done this before. He had not invited Shion to dance out of affection or attraction. Nezumi was keenly aware of his own sexual appeal and he wielded its power for his own purposes. Their long-ago dance lesson had been a means for Nezumi to win his argument and nothing more. That was what Shion had finally been forced to conclude.

Nezumi clicked his tongue. “Do I have to be trying to prove something?”

“I don’t know why else you’d do this.”

The barest trace of something that could have been hurt flashed across Nezumi’s face, but by the next moment had disappeared; Shion was not sure he had even seen it at all. “Is it really that difficult to believe I might enjoy this?”

“It’s not difficult,” Shion said. “But I’ve never known you to do something only because you enjoy it.”

“You don’t know everything about me.”

Shion laughed. “Yes, that’s very true.”

The waltz faded out into a sarabande, stately and slow.

“Shion, you’re right. I’m not doing this just because I enjoy it.”

Shion looked up but didn’t say anything, waiting for an explanation.

“I wanted to do something for you,” Nezumi said softly. “But if you don’t like it, then I’ll stop.”

Shion gave Nezumi a small smile. “Don’t stop, then.”

Eventually the music ended, and the pair stilled. Nezumi reached both arms around Shion’s torso and pulled him close. Shion wrapped his arms around Nezumi’s neck in return.

Shion was overwhelmed with a feeling he didn’t dare put a name to. These were rare moments when Nezumi’s walls would come all the way down, when he would embrace Shion like this, like he needed him—like he would hold on to Shion forever, if he could. Shion could feel himself beginning to unravel. This emotion, whatever it was, was pulling him apart.

_You don’t deserve this happiness._

But Nezumi’s lips were soon on his, a tender sort of kiss that could go anywhere, and Shion’s doubt was swept away. Shion pressed himself more closely into Nezumi, trying to ground himself again, to lose himself in his senses rather than his thoughts, to give himself over entirely to the other man—but Nezumi pulled back. He gave Shion a raised-eyebrow smirk and then let out a low, quiet growl when Shion captured his mouth again, needy and insistent.

“I thought you said you were tired,” Nezumi murmured, running his palm up Shion’s back.

“The dancing must have given me energy.”

The hand on his back tightened, almost imperceptibly.

Shion’s hands lingered on Nezumi’s collar. “I did mean to tell you,” he said, keeping his voice light, “That I rather enjoyed what you were doing last night. I just didn’t want an audience.”

The corner of Nezumi’s mouth twitched. Shion felt himself once again thrust against the wall by the force of Nezumi’s body, but no lips met his; Nezumi’s breath was hot on the side of his neck, instead.

“Is this what you mean?” he asked, throaty and low.

“Yes,” Shion breathed. He swallowed, watching the way Nezumi’s face began to warm even though his eyes remained cool. “To be honest, a part of me always enjoyed it when you immobilized me like this.”

“Ha.” Nezumi’s breath tickled his ear. “Did you really think I didn’t notice?”

Shion could feel his face turn red. Nezumi laughed openly at him. “There’s no point in being embarrassed about it now,” he said, poking a slender finger into Shion’s side.

Shion pushed him away. “I just realized how tired I am. Why don’t we go back to bed?”

“Okay, okay, I get it. No teasing.” Bright silver eyes met his. “Why don’t you tell me what you want, Shion?”

Shion smirked, and yanked Nezumi down by the collar so that he could whisper directly into his ear. Nezumi’s eyebrows flew up with surprise and Shion felt his breath catch in his throat.

“Against the wall?”

Shion had seen Nezumi aroused many times, but never before had there been this sort of excitement mixed in with his lust—eyes sparkling and a flush high in his sculpted cheeks. He nodded, slowly, savoring the way Nezumi’s eyes bore into him. His skin prickled with anticipation.

Nezumi hummed. “I think that can be arranged.”

“Are you sure?” Shion asked, pitching his voice high with mock innocence as he toyed with the top button of Nezumi’s shirt.

Nezumi pressed himself fully against Shion, legs and hips and chests grinding against each other and fingers digging into skin. Eager lips finally crashed against his.

“ _Very_.”


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

 

_So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past._

-F. Scott Fitzgerald, _The Great Gatsby_

 

* * *

  

It was a long run this morning, ten miles along the river to the outer border of No. 5 and then back. The river was clear and safe to drink from here, upstream of the city, and Cara carried a water bottle and some special energy gels in a pack around her waist. The path was paved out to the edge of the residential district, where it faded into dirt—Cara preferred the slight springiness of the soil to the hard concrete surface of the public trail. The wild part of the river trail took her past fields and forests bright with the hues of autumn, and the brisk air was purifying as it filled and emptied from her lungs.

Cara loved to run. She loved how it felt like flying, like she was free and carried along by the wind. How it left her alone with her thoughts, and then let her leave them behind as she pounded them into the dirt. How it made her body ache, afterwards, with that dull sort of pain that meant you were alive. On previous runs she had tripped on hidden tree roots and branches when her mind had been distracted, and been forced to turn back with bloodied hands and knees. Today she tried to let her mind go blank, give herself up to adrenalin and breath, and focus only on each footfall.

Maya’s surgery was tomorrow, and Cara was anxious. The memories of when Maya first got sick were etched in Cara’s mind with painful clarity. Maya had gone to live in the children’s ward of the hospital, where Cara needed a special pass to visit her every day after school. Cara remembered how scared Maya had been when the doctors determined that they would have to amputate her leg to save her life. She remembered how Maya had hidden her fear from her parents, would only cry when she was alone with Cara—but all Cara had been able to do was hold her hand and hug her gingerly, so that she wouldn’t dislodge the IVs and sensors that covered her arms and chest. She remembered the relief she had felt when the cancer was finally gone, and when the doctors discovered a drug that was supposed to prevent it from ever coming back. She remembered when Maya returned to school in a wheelchair, and how she had gone with her to physical therapy after school once a week until she had fully adjusted to her new prosthetic leg. And through it all, there had been Maya’s bright smile and determinedly cheerful voice:

“Thanks for being my friend.”

Friend. A word that made Cara’s heart soar with joy and sink with despair, all at once.

Maya was strong and brave and tough, far more so than Cara was. The cancer that had cost her her leg had become a distant memory, and Maya was determined to put the past far behind her. She had chosen to run headlong into the future without a single backwards glance.

Cara didn’t know how to throw the memories away the way Maya did.

This surgery was unlikely to put Maya’s life in danger, she knew. Maya’s parents would never have consented to it otherwise. She hadn’t understood when Maya tried to explain the procedure to her, but it didn’t sound terribly dangerous, only experimental. Maya was excited, rather than afraid: she was eager to regain a normally functioning leg.

Cara was still anxious. Twenty miles of pumping heart and lungs and muscle couldn’t manage to wash the anxiety away, and neither could the rain that began to pelt down on her in the final miles of her run. The house was empty and silent when she returned—her parents would be in No. 4 for the next week, and George was at his piano lesson. Cara turned the shower water scaldingly hot, hoping it would soothe the aches that had spread through her limbs.

Her communicator was glowing with a new message notification when she finally managed to drag herself out of the shower. Maya’s name flashed across the top of the screen.

  * _How was your run? Are you still up for rollerblading at the park?_



Cara smiled.

  * _It was good! Yes, when and where do you want to meet?_



Maya’s reply was almost instantaneous:

  * _Northmeadow Park at 1?_
  * _Works for me! After we can get ice cream at Carraia’s, my treat._



Maya replied with a large number of red hearts. Cara put the communicator down, laughing quietly.

The rain outside had stopped but the sky outside was still overcast and gray. Cara could see that the hills to the north were blanketed in sunshine, though, and the weather forecast predicted it would be clear by the time they got to Northmeadow. The blue sky and autumn leaves would make for a perfect afternoon outdoors.

Cara pulled on an oversized sweater and confronted the stringy image in the mirror. She would not let Maya sense her anxiety. If she did, she would ask about it, and Cara would be unable to lie to her. Maya had enough to worry about; Cara would not add her own weakness to the list of Maya’s concerns. They would talk and laugh and have fun together, just as they always had.

Cara stood upright and stared down her reflection with clenched fists, willing herself to show a strength she knew she did not possess.

 

* * *

 

Anna hadn’t been to a play since she was a student. She had wanted Nick to come with her, but when he heard that Shion had described the play as “modern,” he had suddenly become concerned about the bakery being understaffed on this lazy Sunday afternoon. Anna had laughed at him, and told him that if he didn’t want to go, he should just tell her. Nick admitted that such things usually went too far over his head for him to enjoy them much. Anna had been worried about the same thing; neither her expertise nor her interest had ever lied with theater. Still, she was curious to see Shion’s mysterious partner on stage.

The play certainly was more modern than the Shakespeare and Miller she remembered being made to study in school, but Anna did not find it unintelligible. Rather, she was captivated, not so much by the the story as by the performances of the two leads, whose voices and movements seemed to draw in their audience and steal away their senses. Anna had been expecting to see Nezumi, but to realize that she also recognized the dark-haired woman playing his counterpart was something of a surprise. She hadn’t seen Rin in over five years, not since she had left her research position at the university. The sight of the woman’s face pulled a multitude of unpleasant memories to the forefront of Anna’s mind, but her fascination with the drama overshadowed them until the final curtain fell.

Anna wavered as she made her way through the theater aisles into the small but stately lobby. She had no desire to speak to Rin. But her manners wouldn’t let her rush out the door; her mother’s voice rang loudly in her mind, chastising her for her rudeness even if Rin would never know. Her wavering lasted long enough that the decision was taken out of her hands, as a familiar voice was calling her name.

Shion stood near the door that led backstage and waved her over. “Did you enjoy the show?” he asked eagerly. He looked happier and more well-rested than Anna had ever seen him, and she found the brightness of his mood to be a little infectious. Anna told him that she did, even though she wasn’t sure she quite understood it all. Shion tilted his head as if he couldn’t comprehend her confusion, and began asking her what she hadn’t understood in a reversal of their usual roles that made Anna nearly burst out laughing. But Anna had no chance to react, as at that moment Nezumi and Rin appeared through the backstage door.

Several things happened at once, and Anna struggled to take all of them in. Nezumi came to stand at Shion’s side and his hand slid into Shion’s, a sign of affection which Anna had never seen before. He gave an Anna a small nod, a smile playing around his lips. Rin’s attention fixed itself on Shion. Anna remembered the uncomfortable intensity of her strange gray eyes as they scanned a person, but it didn’t seem to perturb Shion; he only smiled politely at her.

The focus of Rin’s gaze quickly shifted to Anna. Her expression betrayed neither surprise nor recognition, her face as cold and inscrutable as Anna remembered. The last time they had met was imprinted vividly in Anna’s memory: stark hospital walls and the stinging smell of antiseptic, the somber tones of doctors, and Rin’s face, impassive and closed and still. The steely glint in her eyes had been just the same back then.

Nezumi was thanking her for coming, and then introducing Shion to Rin; Rin’s attention shifted away again, the steeliness gone. She spoke to Shion with a smooth, inviting grin.

“Hello, again,” Rin said, addressing Anna at last. “It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” Anna agreed.

“I hope you’ve been well. I understand you left the university.”

Anna was uncomfortably conscious of the way the attention of both men was focused on her. “Yes, I teach high school now. That’s how I know Shion,” she said, gesturing vaguely in his direction. Neither he nor Nezumi spoke.

The corner of Rin’s mouth curled upward, but she remained as silent as the others.

“The show was excellent,” Anna continued, feeling her face warm. “Both of you were amazing.”

“Thank you,” Rin and Nezumi said, in unison, both with eyebrows raised in amusement.

“You really were,” Shion said, mercifully drawing Rin’s attention back to him. He began to ask Rin about some aspect or other of the show. Anna managed to make some excuse about needing to get back to Nick and Matty and hurried out the door.

 

* * *

  
  
The feeling of Nezumi’s fingers against his palm took Shion by surprise. Indeed, Nezumi seemed softer than Shion had ever seen him outside of the privacy of their apartment, the warmth in his tone genuine as he spoke to Anna and introduced the sharp-eyed actress Shion remembered from two night ago. He saw Rin scan him head to foot with barely concealed curiosity; but her gaze soon shifted sideways to Anna, and her face froze into an expression of cold neutrality.

It was evident that Rin and Anna knew each other from somewhere, but the polite discomfort in the way they spoke suggested that they were not friendly. Rin watched Anna leave with a frown, her expression unreadable.

Shion looked up at Nezumi, confused, but Nezumi just shook his head and shrugged.

“Well, then,” Rin said, snapping her attention back to the two of them, eyes sparkling with amusement again. “Some of the cast is going to get dinner at Straccia’s, would you like to join us?”

Shion squeezed Nezumi’s hand. Nezumi took the hint. “I’m afraid we already have plans,” he said, smoothly. Shion squeezed his hand again in gratitude.

Rin shrugged. “I wanted to apologize for the behavior of my colleagues the other night,” she said, silver eyes meeting Shion’s. “They can get a little overeager when their curiosities are piqued, and your Nezumi here seems determined to keep himself exactly mysterious enough to be unavoidably interesting.”

Shion laughed. “Which I’m sure means that he’s told you absolutely nothing about himself.”

“You would be correct,” Rin replied, a single eyebrow raised.

“Speaking of secrets,” Nezumi said. “How is it that you know Anna?”

“It’s not a secret. She used to work with my wife at the university.”

“Really? What does your wife do?”

Shion felt Nezumi’s fingers tense against his.

Rin’s smirk faded. “She was a professor.”

_Past tense._

“I see,” Shion said.

“I understand that you are also a teacher.”

Shion nodded. “I work at a school in the southeast residential district.”

“Are you from that area?”

“No, I only moved to this city a few years ago.”

“Do you mind me asking where you lived before that?”

Nezumi’s fingers again tensed in his, but he’d had too many variations of this conversation before for it to worry him. “No. 6,” he answered easily.

Rin’s eyebrows shot up. “No. 6,” she repeated. “That’s a surprise. I don’t remember the last time I met anyone from that city.”

Shion offered nothing more than a polite smile in reply.

Rin’s gaze swept over the both of them. “Is that where you know Nezumi from?”

Nezumi shifted imperceptibly closer to him. Shion shook his head. “Not exactly. It’s rather complicated.”

The corner of Rin’s mouth twitched. “I can imagine,” she said. Her communicator buzzed, and she glanced down at it with a small frown. “I’m afraid I have to get going,” she said. “It was nice to meet you, Shion.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” he said, before she disappeared into the crowd.

* * *

“She reminds me of you,” Shion said, back at their apartment. He pulled Nezumi’s jacket off his shoulders.

“Who?”

“Rin.” Nezumi didn’t respond to this. “Is she your friend?”

“I suppose.”

But Shion had become familiar enough with the language of Nezumi’s mannerisms to understand that he was not nearly as sullen or irritated as he appeared. “I’m glad you have a friend,” he said. “I was worried I was your only one.”

Nezumi placed a short but searing kiss on Shion’s lips. “I’m not sure _friend_ is the correct word,” he murmured, sliding his hand into Shion’s back pocket.

Shion gently pushed Nezumi away, determined not to let the subject drop quite yet. “I was surprised that she and Anna knew each other.”

“So was I.” Shion rebuffed an attempt at another kiss and began to pull out dinner ingredients. Nezumi gave one of his exaggerated sighs and draped himself over the couch.

“How much do you know about her?”

“Not a lot,” Nezumi admitted. “She’s clever and sarcastic as hell. She’s not from No. 5, either, although I don’t know where she’s actually from. And she was married, apparently.”

“Do you know what happened to her wife?”

“She died,” Nezumi said, averting his gaze. “I don’t know the details, except that it was some sort of disease she caught when Rin was away.”

Shion paused, holding a large pan in his hands. He set it on the stovetop. “That must have been painful for her,” he said, quietly.

Nezumi was silent. He picked up the book that Shion had given him and hid his face behind it. Shion turned back to the stove with a shrug, and began rinsing off vegetables to stir-fry.

Rin’s image swam before his mind’s eye. He wondered what had happened to her wife, and what it might have done to her. By the time Shion left No. 6, any hope that he would see Nezumi again had long since vanished; he’d had no other choice but to move on. Perhaps Rin had done the same. Only Nezumi had returned to him, in the end. His stomach twisted painfully at the prospect of losing him again. He was not sure how he would endure it.

Familiar arms wrapped themselves around his waist. He nearly dropped the kitchen knife he was holding in surprise—he had not even heard Nezumi stand up.

“You okay?” he asked, bemused.

“Yeah.” Nezumi picked up the knife and stepped to Shion’s side. “Let me help,” he said.

“I can do it. You’ve been working hard all week.”

“It’s not hard work.”

“Okay, then.” Shion tilted his head upward to place a light kiss on Nezumi’s cheek. “Thank you.”

A faint smile came over Nezumi’s face, and he began chopping the vegetables Shion had laid out with expert swiftness.

Shion began measuring out rice and water into the automatic steam cooker. “You really were amazing in the show,” he said.

The corner of Nezumi’s lips curled. “Thanks,” he said. “You told me that before, though.”

“It’s still true.” He smiled at Nezumi, a little shy. “I love watching you perform. I don’t think I would ever get tired of it.”

“You were always easy to please.”

“Are you saying I have no taste?”

“I think you have very _specific_ taste,” he said, poking Shion’s arm.

“I don’t think I’m all that biased. You’ve always been able to captivate an audience.”

“It is a talent of mine.”

Shion poured oil into the pan and turned the burner to high. “Rin’s quite a good actress, too.”

“Yeah, she is.” He fixed his eyes on Shion. “And I’m afraid I’ve told you everything I know about her, so you can go ahead and reign in that relentless curiosity of yours.”

“No, I know that. It’s just…” Shion wasn’t sure how to finish.

“What?”

He sighed. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, leaning into Nezumi’s side. Nezumi leaned back with his entire body weight, like he was trying to push Shion over.

“Stop!” Shion laughed. “There’s hot oil on the stove, you’ll make me knock it over.”

Nezumi wrapped one arm around Shion’s torso and the other around his upper back, dipping him downward as if continuing their dance from the night before. His breath caught in his throat.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” Nezumi said, his eyes sparking.

“Yeah, you’ve told me that before.” Shion swallowed, trying hard to meet Nezumi’s gaze without losing himself to it. The sound of hot oil popping brought him back to the present; but he was still hesitant to dislodge himself from Nezumi’s hold on him.

“Yes?” Nezumi grinned wryly at him, one eyebrow raised.

“The stove,” Shion said.

Nezumi reached over and turned the burner off.

Shion sighed, unable to stop smiling. He reached up and wrapped his arms around Nezumi’s neck, wondering what it would feel like to be kissed in this position. He did not have to wait long to find out, though, because Nezumi’s lips were soon on his, and then he was swept upright again, slender arms still around him and silver eyes gazing directly into his own. Fear and doubt and worry vanished from his mind.

“I liked that,” he said, breathlessly.

Shion caught only a glimpse of the triumph in Nezumi’s eyes before he was grabbed by the wrist and dragged into the bedroom.

 

* * *

 

It was dark, and the glowing numbers on the nightstand informed Nezumi that it was very late. The air in the room was cool and still, but Nezumi’s heart raced and sweat clung to his back.

_Right. I was having a nightmare._

The details of the dream were rapidly slipping away from him. Shion had been in it, and then disappeared; that was all that remained.

Nezumi was alone in the room. This had never happened before. Every night since they had begun sharing a bed, Nezumi had woken with Shion at his side. He ran his hand over the place where Shion slept. It was still warm. A small sigh of relief escaped his lips. The faint sounds of cupboards opening and closing reached his ears, and Nezumi followed them into the kitchen.

“Shion?”

Shion turned around. He had wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and was holding a box of tea. His face was dry but pale under the single fluorescent light of the kitchen. The electric kettle rumbled behind him.

“I was trying not to wake you,” he said ruefully.

“I woke up on my own.” Nezumi came closer and tugged on the hem of Shion’s shirt.

Shion stared down at his hand for a moment, and then peered up at his face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

A sweet but doubtful smile came over Shion’s face. He pulled down another mug and put it on the counter next to his own. “Do you want this one or the green tea?”

“I don’t need tea.”

“This one, then,” Shion said, pulling out another tea bag. The kettle turned itself off with a click.

Nezumi watched in silence as Shion poured hot water into both mugs. Steam began to rise, mingled with the scent of lavender and chamomile. Shion held one out toward Nezumi. He took it, holding it to his chest and letting its warmth seep into his skin. Shion reached up and tucked the blanket around both their shoulders before picking up his own.

“Do you want to talk?”

Shion took a small sip of his drink. “In a minute.”

The room’s silence was disturbed only by the sound of breathing and the occasional sipping of tea.

Shion slipped his hand into Nezumi’s. It was warmer than usual from the heat of his mug. He looked up at Nezumi, eyes clear and calm.

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

“So am I,” Nezumi said, allowing Shion a small smile.

Shion smiled back, faintly. “I was dreaming about you,” he said. His smile faded. “Usually, my nightmares are about things that happened in the past. But now I keep having dreams about you, the way you are now.” Shion’s fingers tensed in his. “Sometimes you die, and sometimes you just disappear…”

His voice trailed away and his gaze went distant.

“They’re just dreams, Shion. I’m not going to walk away from you again.”

“I know,” Shion lied.

Nezumi’s jaw clenched. Shion remained convinced that whatever was happening between them was temporary, and while he had told Nezumi many times now that he believed Nezumi when he said he wasn’t leaving, each time Nezumi knew his words were false. But this was a frequent argument of theirs, and one which didn’t need to be revisited at the moment.

Nezumi breathed deeply and focused on Shion, on the light flush on his cheeks and the slight trembling of his hands and the not entirely irrational fears of his heart.

“Were you were dreaming about that just now?”

Shion nodded. He looked away from Nezumi and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Isn’t it ridiculous? You came back to me, and now I’m more afraid of losing you than ever.”

Nezumi rubbed his thumb against the back of Shion’s hand. “It isn’t ridiculous. But it’s also not real.”

Shion took a long, slow breath and put his mug down. “I’m going to go back to bed.”

“Excellent idea.”

But Shion didn’t move. He reached his arms under Nezumi’s and pulled him closer, tugging on the blanket so that it was wrapped more securely around Nezumi’s shoulders.

“Nezumi.”

“Present, Mr. Shion.”

Shion smiled, faintly. “You know that I love you, right?”

He must have seen the fear cross Nezumi’s face, because the smile dropped from his.

“I don’t need you to say it too,” Shion said, lowering his gaze. “It’s just that I kept thinking about your friend Rin and how she lost her wife, and I…” He hesitated, biting his lip. “I need to know that you know.”

Nezumi’s hold on him tightened. “I know.”

“Good. Because it’s true.” Shion rested his head against his shoulder, his face hidden. “I love you so much sometimes I’m afraid it’s going to break me,” he whispered, the words burning like ice against Nezumi’s skin.

Nezumi pulled away slightly and drew his hand up to Shion’s face. He was wearing a small, goofy smile that made Nezumi’s heart ache. Nezumi brushed his lips against his forehead. “You know that’s ridiculous.”

Shion gave a tiny shrug, still smiling at him.

What had happened to him, to make him like this? Nezumi still felt powerfully drawn to this quietly serious man, but to say that he hadn’t mourned the loss of Shion’s more optimistic younger self would be a lie.

_That was your own fault. What were you expecting, after everything you put him through?_

He had nearly lost Shion to the man’s fear and doubt once before. Their future no longer seemed so tenuous as it had then, when they had first been reunited. But Nezumi still didn’t know the full extent of what Shion had experienced in his absence. It worried him. Shion feared that Nezumi would leave him, but Nezumi had a feeling—almost a premonition—that it would be the other way around.

Feather-light fingers brushed against his cheeks. “Sorry,” Shion murmured. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Huh?”

Nezumi’s own tears still took him by surprise, after all this time. Because of course those were tears staining Shion’s fingertips. Nezumi rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. “I’m not upset.”

Shion gave him the same sweetly doubtful smile as before.

“I’m not upset, Shion,” he repeated firmly.

“Okay.” Shion slipped his fingers into Nezumi’s hair. A small shiver went down his back. Shion’s hands moved to his shoulders, then slid down his arms until he was holding Nezumi’s hands in his own. “Let’s go to bed.”

Nezumi fell asleep pressed closely against Shion's chest, and did not wake until morning.

 

* * *

 

“I need to talk to you about something.”

Anna had appeared in his classroom during his conference period, which was not an unusual occurrence. What was unusual was the flatness in her voice and the tense set of her jaw. It made Shion uneasy.

“Okay.” Shion tried to make his smile reassuring, but all Anna did was furrow her brow further and take her usual seat across his desk. Usually there were lesson plans or boxed lunches in between them, but now there was only the empty space.

“It’s about the old No. 6,” she said, meeting his gaze with an air of caution.

“No. 6?” Shion repeated, surprised.

“You told me the truth about how the old city was destroyed,” she said. “That it wasn’t only humans responsible.”

It had been a terrible, impossible day, and the memories of it still made Shion’s hands shake and blood run cold. He could remember that strange voice with perfect clarity, relaying a message from Safu, charging him with a terrible, impossible task, placing the future of a city in his hands. A voice that still haunted his dreams. Shion only nodded his agreement.

“That being—you had a name for it, I think—”

“Elyurias,” Shion said, softly.

“I don’t think it was the only one,” Anna said.

“What do you mean?” Shion had never considered it. He had never wondered whether there were other beings like Elyurias, elsewhere in the world. There had been so sign of her since that fateful day.

Anna was twisting a lock of her fire-red hair around her finger. She hesitated. “There’s quite a bit I should tell you, but I’m not sure where to start,” she explained.

“Anna, why do you think there’s another Elyurias out there?”

“Because I met one,” she said. “Deep in the forests south of No. 4. It also controlled parasites that could kill people, and…” Anna looked frightened and pale. “I think they’ve appeared in this city.”

Shion leaned forward, his voice serious and low. “I need you to tell me everything.”

Anna nodded, and began to speak.

 

* * *

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE COMES THE PLOT

* * *

  

 _Omnia sunt hominum tenui pendentia filo: Et subito casu, quæ valuere, ruunt._  
All human things hang on a slender thread: the strongest fall with a sudden crash.  
-Ovid, _Epistulae ex Ponto_ , Book IV

 

* * *

 

“When I was a student, I was part of a group who frequently went on research trips to the forests south of No. 4. My last expedition I went with my advisor, Dr. Conti, and a young assistant professor from the department, Dr. Ayami. That’s how I know Rin,” Anna explained. “Ayami was her wife.”

“We were studying the deepest part of the forests south of No. 4. Very quickly we noticed that the mammals there had some unusual behaviors. They would come up to us when we made camp and let us feed and pet them. It was almost as if they were domesticated. That didn’t make any sense, though, because we encountered no other humans at all. The animals were all from different species; the only thing they had in common was a strange black patch over their hearts. When we examined one we found that the flesh there had started to necrotize. It looked like some sort of bite, although it didn’t seem to cause them any harm. We were curious, so followed the strange animals deeper into the forest.

“At some point we started to hear this odd sound, almost like quiet music constantly playing in the background. I thought I was going mad until Ayami told me she was hearing the same thing. Then we noticed that the mammals weren’t the only species acting strangely. The spiders in the forest behaved more like ants, building massive, intricate webs together and moving in organized packs instead of as solitary hunters. My advisor was excited. She thought it was a novel form of rapid adaptation, that it would let us study how cooperative group behavior evolves.

"We found that the spiders’ behavior was related somehow to the music we were hearing. If the music changed, so did the spiders’ behavior. When we recorded the sound and played it back, the spiders nearby would alter their behavior to match the music. We didn’t have the means to analyze the signal itself with us, but when we returned to No. 5 with the recordings we found that the sound encoded directions for the animals in much the same way we can transmit signals via radio waves.”

“That’s what the paper you wrote was about,” Shion said.

Anna nodded. “When we published our results, we claimed that we never found the source of the sound. Instead we proposed that it was some sort of emergent quality of this group behavior, that it was coming from all of the spiders at once. But that was a lie,” she said, her voice hard. “We found the source of the music.”

Anna paused, still avoiding Shion’s gaze. “We started to worry when the music began to change to resemble human language. At first, none of it made sense to us—just disconnected words and phrases. It was frightening.” Anna’s brow furrowed. “But we didn’t want to give up this opportunity. Our curiosity was greater than our fear. We wanted to understand what the sound’s source was, and the deeper we went into the forest, the louder it became, and the more it began to resemble human speech.

“After days of wandering through the deepest part of the forest, this— _being_ finally appeared before us as a massive, shimmering black arachnid. That’s what it looked like, anyway; we weren’t sure whether it was even solid, or just a mirage. It didn’t exactly speak, either, but we could understand that it was using the music to communicate with us. It was very clearly telling us to leave. We tried to ask if there was anything we could do for the forest, we tried to explain that we were there because we wanted to restore it, but it became enraged. ‘Humans are only capable of destruction,’ it said. We had angered it by interfering with its signals. It would only spare us if we promised to leave and never let humans interfere there again. So we left.”

Anna’s expression darkened. “That was when we figured out what the black spots we saw on some of the forest animals had come from. They were the result of spiders laying their eggs in a host. The spider creature used them to control the mammals the same way it could control the spiders. It would make them serve the best interest of the ecosystem as a whole, rather than follow their own self-preservation instincts. And if the mammals disobeyed, the spiders would hatch, spreading the necrotized patch down into their heart and killing them.”

Shion reached up and touched the back of his neck. “Just like the parasite wasps.”

Anna nodded. “I don’t know how it happened, but Ayami must have been infected, because one of the black spots appeared on her chest. It wanted to send us a warning, I suppose. Ayami lost consciousness as soon as we left the forest. We returned to No. 5 as quickly as we could, hoping the doctors here could treat it somehow, but nothing they did worked. She finally died of cardiac arrest. I had to explain it to Rin,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “I wanted her to be mad at me, but she barely said anything at all. It was like watching her die, too.”

Anna seemed to shake herself. “Dr. Conti and I published the data, and she used her influence and connections to secure it as a sanctuary region forbidden to humans. I finished my degree and left the university. Dr. Conti wouldn’t let me completely abandon that world, though. She makes sure to stay in touch. Which brings to me to the point,” Anna said, speaking quickly. “I just got a message from her that she thinks the same parasite that killed Ayami has reappeared in the city.”

Shion ran his fingers through his hair, trying not to tug on his bangs and doing it anyway. “How is that possible?”

“I don’t know,” Anna said. “Dr. Conti wants me to meet her after school lets out, and I want you to come with us. Nezumi too. You saw something like this in No. 6, right?”

Shion nodded. “We were able to convince Elyurias to spare the wasps’ hosts. Maybe we can do the same.”

“I hope so,” Anna said, sounding anxious. “Dr. Conti will have more information. Do you think Nezumi will be able to come with us?”

Shion nodded. He pulled out his communicator, heart and mind both racing.

 

* * *

 

Nezumi slipped into the empty backstage hallway as soon as he heard the urgency in Shion’s voice. The story Shion told him made his blood run cold.

“Can you get out of rehearsal?”

“Who cares? This is more important.” Nezumi glanced at the clock. If he left soon he would be able to meet Shion just as school let out. “Shion, don’t panic, okay? We don’t know what’s really going on yet.”

“I know. I’m not panicking.” And indeed, Shion sounded calm and determined, as if this crisis were somehow routine. “I have to go, I have one more class to teach,” he said. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah. Bye.” He clicked the communicator off.

“If you don’t audition you don’t get a part, you know.” Rin’s cool voice floated down the hallway, accompanied by the sharp rap of heels on the concrete floor.

“Excellent timing,” he drawled. “I have questions for you.”

Rin only raised an eyebrow in reply.

“What happened to your wife?”

“Forgoing tact today, are we?” Rin crossed her arms, expression unperturbed. “She died. Years ago. Why do you care?”

“How did she die?”

“She caught some sort of infection while on a research trip. It had never been seen before, so no one knew how to treat it.”

“That’s all you know?”

“It’s what the doctors told me.”

“Did you know anything the doctors didn’t?”

Rin’s forehead creased slightly. “Why would I?”

“I don’t know. You seem like a woman with a lot of secrets. I figured that might be one of them.”

“That’s a bit hypocritical, now, isn’t it?”

“Am I wrong?”

Rin met his gaze in silence, eyes stony.

Nezumi turned to leave. “I’ll probably have more questions for you later,” he said, walking out the door into the cool autumn air. He heard the rapid clicking of heels as the door shut behind him.

Thoughts were spinning through his mind too quickly to process. He was certain Rin had not told him everything she knew, but he would deal with that later. Had he ever heard the Forest People speak of other Forest Gods? He couldn’t remember. The disease Shion had described sounded similar to what the parasite wasps did to their hosts. But Shion had survived, and they had managed to convince Elyurias to spare the citizens of No. 6. Was this being another incarnation of the Forest God he had known? What might have incurred its wrath? Had someone sought to control it like the scientists of No. 6, and failed just as they had?

Nezumi’s thoughts continued to spin until he met up with Shion. He’d had some vague hope that Shion would have answers for him; but the man’s eyes were blank and his expression was hard, and he barely acknowledged Nezumi’s presence. It had become rare to see him like this in the months since they had been reunited. A small shiver went down Nezumi’s spine. It was a bad omen.

“Oh good, you’re here,” Anna said, walking out of the building. She wore a brightly colored paisley dress which almost comically contrasted the seriousness of her manner. “Dr. Conti sent a car, we can talk more on the way.”

The car that arrived was sleek and autonomous, one of the new models which had recently gained popularity among the wealthy citizens of No. 5. Its interior was more spacious than seemed possible and its movement through the city was silent and smooth.

“Who is this Conti person, to be able to send us this?” Nezumi asked.

Anna glanced back at him from the front seat. Her laptop was balanced on her knees and she was pulling up a series of documents which looked like old research notes and data. “Dr. Conti is a fairly renowned researcher in my field. She has a lot of connections,” she said with an uncharacteristic wry smile on her face. “I suppose I should warn you that she can be rather intimidating.”

Nezumi glanced at Shion, who met his eyes with a brief smile. “Thanks for the warning. I think we’ll be fine.”

Anna shrugged and turned back to her computer. “How much did Shion tell you about what’s going on?”

“Five years ago you encountered a being like the one Shion and I met in No. 6, it could control some of the forest animals, it told you to leave the forest and never come back, it infected Rin’s wife and she died, and now the same infection seems to have appeared again. Is that everything?”

“Those are the main points, yeah. I’m going through my old notes to try to remember if there was anything else that might be important.”

“We don’t know yet what might be important,” Shion said. “We have to consider everything.”

Anna nodded. “You have the data about Elyurias?”

“Nezumi was supposed to bring it.”

Nezumi pulled two small chips out of his pocket, the same one Rou had given to Shion all those years ago and, a newer one with all the data Shion had since gathered from the No. 6 scientists who had been studying Elyurias in the Correctional Facility.

“We’ll have Dr. Conti look at all of it. She knows more than I do.”

“You trust her with this?”

Anna turned to look at Nezumi again. “‘Trust’ isn’t the right word. She has intelligence and discretion. She’ll know what to do with any information we give her.”

“This information isn’t classified, Nezumi,” Shion said quietly. “It would have been too difficult to conceal.”

Nezumi noted the stiffness in Shion’s posture and turned his attention back to Anna. “Did information about how the old No. 6 fell reach the other cities?”

“Not the details. We knew that the old leadership had been overturned and the walls had come down. I didn’t know about Elyurias until Shion told me. This is why I’m asking for your help,” she said. “If you’ve encountered something like this before, I figured you would have the most useful information.”

“You and Dr. Conti are the only ones who know about this creature?”

Anna nodded. “Ayami met it too, but I don’t think she had a chance to tell anyone about it before she died.”

“So Rin wouldn’t know anything you don’t?”

“I told Rin what I could,” Anna said. “I don’t think she would know anything else. And even if Ayami had managed to get a message to her before she died, she wouldn’t have known anything Dr. Conti and I didn’t.”

“How much do you know about her?”

“Who, Rin?” Anna stopped typing. She seemed surprised by the question. “Not a great deal. I knew Ayami better. I think they met when Ayami was still a student in No. 2, although I’m pretty sure Rin is from somewhere else. You probably already know that she used to be a fairly famous actress in this city. She has this beautiful singing voice, too, like nothing I’ve ever heard.” Her voice softened. “She and Ayami were always kind to me. They would let me sleep at their place when I stayed so late at the university that I missed the last train home.” She turned to look at Nezumi. “Do you think Rin might have something to do with this?”

“I don’t know. But like Shion said, we don’t know what’s going to be important.”

Shion turned his head slightly toward Nezumi, his expression blank.

“What are you thinking?” Nezumi asked in a low tone.

Shion’s forehead creased. The colorful scenery of the city flashed across the window behind him. “I’m not sure what to think,” he said. “It sounds like the same thing we saw with Elyurias, but we don’t know why it’s happening. And if we don’t know why it’s happening, then there’s almost no chance that we can stop it.”

Nezumi put his hand on top of Shion’s. Shion looked down at their overlapped fingers with a small frown.

They had had sex the night before. “You usually seem so focused on making me feel good,” Shion had said, his voice soft and his smile marred with concern. “But I still don’t really know what you like. What do _you_ want, Nezumi?” he’d asked, a little shy. But Nezumi had been lost for an answer. He had simply never considered it before. He’d allowed Shion to lavish him with the same single-minded focus he approached everything else of importance to him, wondering at the way Shion seemed to savor every reaction Nezumi made. Shion’s body had been pliant and inviting and his expression had been open and warm, and Nezumi had willingly given his whole self over to him.

Now, Shion’s fingers were tense and stiff. Nezumi gently teased them apart and wove them together with his own. “We don’t know enough yet to know how much to worry,” he said. “So don’t waste the effort yet.”

Shion continued to frown, but didn’t move his hand away. “I’m not worrying. I’m just trying to think realistically about this,” he said quietly. “That’s something you taught me, remember?”

_Sometimes, Shion, I wish you would listen to the me speaking to you now, rather than the memory of me you hold in your mind._

But he didn’t have a chance to say it out loud, because the car had come to a stop. The solemn, modern buildings of the university’s research facilities towered before them. Shion freed his hand from Nezumi’s to follow Anna inside.

 

* * *

 

Shion had visited this place a handful of times before. The first time had been early in his days on the Restructural Committee, on a trip to discuss methods for restoring the environment with representatives from the other cities. Since then he’d visited the university in a diplomatic role negotiating trade agreements between No. 6 and the other city-states. He’d found the former far more interesting than the the latter; but someone had to do the negotiations, and over and over again Shion had been nominated to fill the role due to his persuasive abilities. The unsettled feeling in his stomach intensified as he followed Anna’s quick stride to the top floor, Nezumi silent beside him.

“This takes me back,” Anna said as they turned down a hallway full of offices and stark white laboratory rooms. On the walls were posters describing recent research projects, full of complex diagrams and scientific jargon. They passed an open office full of students engaged in deep discussion with a professor who gesticulated enthusiastically as he spoke and a large room filled with plants lit up with magenta light. Anna pointed to a lab that was filled with bulky white machines that Shion recognized as biochemical analytics equipment. “When I wasn’t on expeditions, that was where I did my work,” Anna said, an air of nostalgia in her voice.

“I can’t imagine being cooped up in a place like this every day,” Nezumi said.

“Yeah, I hated that part of it. That was why I always volunteered to go on the research trips. It’s better than the physics labs, though,” she said. “At least we have windows.”

She took them around the corner to another long hallway that was lined with more offices. The rooms here seemed newer and larger than the ones they had just seen. Bright, suffuse light came from a large skylight and a large sculpture of a molecule Shion recognized as hemoglobin was visible at the end of the hallway.

“Here,” Anna said. The door was embossed with small gold lettering: _Dr. Francesca Conti, Edith A. Roberts Professor of Ecology and Environmental Science_. Anna rapped on it sharply before letting herself in.

Dr. Conti’s office was spacious and airy, lit by floor-to-ceiling windows behind her desk. The walls were covered entirely by bookshelves packed with research publications and textbooks. Dr. Conti herself was a tall, sharp-faced woman with gray hair tied up in a tight bun and understated, expensive-looking clothing. Her smile was imperious and her eyes were appraising as they walked through the door. If he had passed her on the street, Shion would have guessed she worked in law or business rather than academia.

“It’s been far too long, my dear,” Dr. Conti said, standing up to greet them.

“Has it?” There was a wry smile on Anna’s face again. “Dr. Conti, this is Shion and Nezumi.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” she said, shaking Nezumi’s hand and looking him up and down with a slightly hungry glint in her eye. She turned to Shion. “We’ve met before,” she said, her manner noticeably colder.

“Have we?” Shion knew it was likely. He had met a lot of people in his work, many of whom he no longer remembered with much specificity.

“At the climate summit in No. 1 three years ago.”

“Ah,” Shion said, struggling to recognize her face. “Did you give a presentation?”

“I did. It wasn’t quite as— _aggressive_ —as yours, as I recall. You had quite the uncompromising view on what the city-states ought to be doing for the environment.”

“I take it you didn’t quite agree with my views,” Shion said with careful, practiced politeness.

“On the contrary,” Dr. Conti said, waving her hand. “I was mesmerized. Your position was on the extreme side to be sure, but your speech had everyone hanging on your every word. I envied you, with your ability to stir up all those dull old academics like that.”

“What was this extreme position of yours, Shion?” Nezumi asked, his tone light and his eyes sharp.

“Shion advocated for the cities to focus the bulk of their resources on restoring the environment, arguing that it would benefit far more in the long run than projects intended to improve quality of life for their citizens in the present. It was rather audacious,” Dr. Conti said with a smirk, “Coming from the representative of a city who had to borrow money from the other city-states in order to get its own welfare systems off the ground.”

“No. 6 payed back those loans with interest,” Shion said evenly. “And I wasn’t advocating that the cities abandon their welfare systems, only that they direct a larger portion of their resources towards environmental restoration.”

Shion could feel the weight of Nezumi’s silver-eyed gaze on him. Somewhere in the periphery of his mind he wondered whether this was another thing he should have told Nezumi before now, and whether Nezumi was disappointed; he pushed it away.

Dr. Conti waved her hand. “I have to say, you’re a great deal less intimidating now. I probably wouldn’t have recognized you if it weren’t for your distinctive appearance.” Her tone sharpened. “It is fascinating to me, however, that someone with so much power and promise would give all of it up to teach teenagers.”

But Dr. Conti was no longer addressing Shion. Her gaze was directed at Anna, one eyebrow arched.

“You asked us here for a reason,” Anna said tersely.

“Yes, of course.” Dr. Conti leaned backward in her chair. “How much have you told them?”

“Everything I know.”

“Good. So you know that the strange disease that killed Ayami has returned?” The three of them nodded. Dr. Conti began typing something on her computer. “There have been several cases at the university hospital, but the idiot doctors dragged their feet asking any of the experts here about it. I only learned about it by chance when one of my colleagues mentioned it in passing. After I called you,” she said, nodding towards Anna, “I checked the most recent satellite images of the forest and found something that might explain why this is happening.”

Dr. Conti turned her computer screen around to show them a map of a large green patch of land which Shion assumed was the forest in question. Two perfectly straight, slender lines approached the forest, one from the north and one from the south. The southern line continued about a mile or so into the forest.

“Train tracks?”

Anna swore under her breath. She looked up at Conti. “How did we not realize? Everyone’s been talking about the new high speed rail for months.”

“I suppose it was my fault,” Dr. Conti said, without a trace of guilt in her tone. “I was monitoring the forest to ensure that the cities didn’t trespass its boundaries, and this slipped through the cracks. To be honest, I’m surprised no one asked me. I would have told them to build around it.”

Nezumi sniffed. “That’s why no one asked you.”

Shion nodded, pointing at the map. It was obvious to him why the railway planners had decided to cut through the forest. “It extends at least another 50 miles west here and there are mountains to the east. High-speed trains can only handle so much curvature. It would have been far more expensive to build around it.”

“Well, there’s nothing to be done about it now,” Dr. Conti said brusquely. She pointed at the intruding portion of the rail line. “I’m fairly certain this is what caused the outbreak. We encroached on Shelob’s territory again, and now it’s angry.”

“‘Shelob’?” Nezumi said the name with a trace of laughter. Shion couldn’t see what was funny.

“It’s the nickname Dr. Conti gave to the entity we met,” Anna explained, barely concealing an eyeroll.

“The first patients to present with the illness were all laborers working on the railway,” Dr. Conti said. “They abandoned the construction site as soon as people started falling ill. Nearly a dozen workers are in the hospital now, and the disease has begun presenting in people who never left the city at all. The illness seems to have a means of spreading, even outside the forest.”

“How many people have gotten sick?”

“About twenty, as of this morning. They’ve all been transferred to the university hospital.”

“We’ll probably need to visit the hospital, then,” Shion said. “I want to see how similar this is to what the parasitic wasps did to their hosts.”

Dr. Conti nodded. “I have already made the arrangements. The question is,” she said, leaning forward, “What are you going to do after that?”

“We’re going after it,” Anna and Shion said in unison.

Dr. Conti raised an eyebrow as if amused. Shion could feel Nezumi’s eyes on him again. He turned to meet his gaze and was surprised to see his expression creased with concern.

“You think we can do it again?” Nezumi’s voice was quiet and low. “I don’t have any connection with this being the way I did with the Forest God.”

“Still, it’s our best option right now,” Anna said. “We’ll go to the hospital first, and then make further plans from there.”

Dr. Conti nodded. “I can make arrangements to get you to the forest. Anna, you have all the data?”

“Everything except Ayami’s old notes,” Anna said. “You had a copy of them, right?”

Dr. Conti shook her head. “The physical copy is with her wife, I believe. If you want it you’ll have to ask her.” She turned to Shion and Nezumi. “You have some information about the Forest God you met?”

Nezumi pulled the two chips out of his pocket and placed them on Dr. Conti’s desk.

“Everything I ever managed to learn is there,” Shion said.

“I’ll read through it,” Dr. Conti said. “You three can go to the hospital and then we can discuss further. The lead doctor there is expecting you.”

“Let’s not waste any time, then.”

The hospital was located only a few buildings away. Anna led them there at the same brisk pace from before. The feeling of urgency, of needing to come up with a plan of action in a short period of time, of having to make the most of limited knowledge—all of it was familiar. The crises he had dealt with as a member of the Restructural Committee had worn grooved patterns of thought and behavior. Gather information, make a plan, enact it, gather more information, make adjustments. They would learn what they could about this disease and determine if it could be dealt with in the same way they had done a decade ago. If so, they would have to go find this Shelob creature and see if they could convince it to change its mind. If not…

Shion felt a gentle tug on his sleeve. Nezumi fell into pace beside him. “Did you ever learn why you were able to survive the parasitic wasp’s infection?” he asked.

Shion shook his head. “I never dreamed I would encounter anything like it again, so I didn’t bother. And besides, there were so many other things to worry about, I barely thought about it.”

“Remember how determined you were to make a serum from your blood?”

Nezumi was smiling at him, but Shion didn’t find it amusing. “Maybe I can have the doctors here test mine while we’re gone,” he mused aloud.

The hospital staff directed them to a far wing where the patients were being quarantined. There was a mass of doctors gathered together when they arrived, all deep in conversation and all wearing identical worried expressions.

A tall man stood up when they approached. “Are you from the university?”

“We are,” Anna said. “I’m Dr. Anna, and this is Shion and Nezumi.”

The man introduced himself as Dr. Khalil. “Thanks for coming,” he said. “I’m afraid we’ve been rather stumped by what’s been happening, so we appreciate any help we can get. I understand that you’ve seen this disease before.”

Anna nodded. “And we think Shion and Nezumi encountered something similar in No. 6 several years ago.”

“No. 6?” another doctor said, with a small amount of surprise.

“Yes,” Shion said, hoping to avoid being dragged into this particular conversation again. “Can you show us what’s been going on?”

Dr. Khalil nodded. “Come with me.”

The first patient was a stocky man with tan lines on his arms and legs that suggested he had spent time working in the sun. A black patch no bigger than a silver coin was visible amid the tangle of sensors attached to his chest. He appeared to be unconscious. Dr. Khalil explained that he was the first patient to be brought in with the symptoms.

“He came in a week from yesterday with what was thought to be symptoms of an ordinary heart attack,” Dr. Khalil said, consulting his tablet computer. “However, it soon became clear that the diagnosis was not correct. His heart is perfectly normal, except for that strange black patch you see there.”

“Can I get a closer look?”

Dr. Khalil pulled on a pair of gloves and moved some of the sensors away. “The skin here has necrotized, but only the very top layer is affected. It’s like this with all the other patients.”

“Is there any clear cause of the necrosis?”

The doctor shook his head. “Every single thing we could test for came back negative. I’m sure its an infection of some sort, just one we’ve never encountered before. Hence the quarantine,” he said. He took them into another room with two beds, each holding an unconscious patient. “The first few cases that came in were all from the construction site up north, so we asked them to evacuate. But then other patients started coming in with similar symptoms, people who had never come into contact with the construction site at all. We’ve been trying to find any sort of connection between the patients, with no success.”

“Are any of the patients conscious?” Anna asked, as they stepped back out into the hallway.

Dr. Khalil shook his head. “That’s part of why we’re so confused. All of them show normal brain activity. They should all be in perfect health. We can’t find a reason why they won’t wake up.”

“And no one has died from it yet?” Nezumi asked, his voice low.

The doctor shook his head again, but Anna nodded. “Ayami died from it five years ago.”

Dr. Khalil turned to them, brow furrowed. “So is this like what you saw before?”

Shion pulled down his collar to show the scar on his neck. “There were parasitic wasps that would cause rapid aging and then death when they hatched. I managed to survive it, but my hair turned white and I was left with this scar.” He let the doctor examine it. “The black patch looks the same as what would happen when the wasps hatched, but it doesn’t seem to be spreading the same way.”

“But how did the wasps get inside people in the first place?”

“Their eggs were put there on purpose,” Shion said, his voice hard. “They could be used to control the citizens’ behavior.”

Dr. Khalil’s eyes widened and then his forehead creased with disbelief. “Are you sure? I mean, I had heard rumors about unethical medical experiments, but that just seems… I don’t even know, like something out of a science fiction movie.”

“It’s the truth,” Nezumi said, his voice dangerously low and his eyes steely and sharp as his knife.

Dr. Khalil glanced at him, brow furrowed, and then turned his gaze back to the unconscious patients in the nearby room. “Is it possible the same thing has happened here?”

“I don’t think so,” Anna said, slowly. “What is there to be gained by rendering people unconscious rather than simply killing them? The entity I encountered was actively controlling the animals in the forest or killing them, not leaving them immobile.”

Shion chewed his lip. He couldn’t make sense of it. Parts of it were similar to what he and Nezumi had seen, but the details didn’t add up correctly. And Anna was right—why didn’t this even match what she had seen in the forest before?

“Have you found any signs of eggs or larva?” he asked, knowing what the answer would be. And sure enough, Dr. Khalil said that they had not, although they would be sure to look again more closely.

“And there’s no connection or pattern between the patients?”

“Not that we can find, other than that half of them came from the northern construction site. They’ve got different professions, live in different parts of the city, have different ethnic backgrounds and ages—the youngest is only sixteen,” he said, a little sadly. “She came in for an unrelated surgical procedure and never woke from the anesthesia.”

Shion’s blood went cold. “What was the procedure?”

“She was being fitted with a new kind of prosthetic,” Dr. Khalil said. “She had part of her leg removed to treat a childhood cancer, if I remember correctly.”

Anna turned to Shion with a small frown. “Didn’t you say that one of your students was having an advanced prosthetic installed this week?”

“Yes.” Shion’s heart was pounding so loudly he was sure the other two could hear it. He fought to control the turmoil of his thoughts but there was little to be done about his body’s physical stress response. “Dr. Khalil, can you take us to this patient?”

The last room was occupied by a single patient, lying unconscious in the hospital bed like all the rest of the patients. Unlike the others, however, Shion recognized her.

It was Maya.


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

  

Sta come torre ferma, che non crolla  
Giammai la cima per soffiar de' venti.  
_Be steadfast as a tower that doth not bend its stately summit to the tempest's shock._

-Dante Alighieri, _Purgatorio_

 

* * *

 

It had been impossible for Cara to focus in any of her classes on Monday. It didn’t matter how many times George and Mauro reminded her that it was unlikely that anything would go wrong and assured her that Maya was going to be fine. Cara kept checking her communicator, waiting for Maya to tell her she had woken up and everything had gone successfully; but no such message came, even though Maya was supposed to have been out of surgery hours ago. Her brother finally pulled the device out of her hands and hid it in his own pocket. Cara screeched in protest, which drew their teacher’s attention. Mr. Shion came over to their lab bench wearing a tiny, raised-eyebrow smile.

Everyone else seemed to love Mr. Shion, but Cara found him intimidating. Cara excelled in every class except his—it felt as though every time Cara figured out what rule or pattern she was supposed to follow, he turned it around so that it didn’t apply anymore. He kept talking about “concepts” rather than rules. But Cara didn’t know what to do with “concepts.” She wanted rules, like the logic of math or the grammar of language, so that she could follow them. Her friends liked Mr. Shion’s concepts because for them it meant they had to memorize less, but Cara just felt lost and embarrassed that she struggled so much.

There was also the fact that she found Mr. Shion difficult to read, with his perpetual calmness and neutrality, and the way it felt like his strangely-colored eyes could see right through her. Mr. Shion always treated her kindly; but still, she could not manage to like him the way her classmates did.

“Is everything okay over here?” Mr. Shion asked calmly, only a hint of accusation in his voice.

Cara and George both nodded. George’s face went bright red like it usually did when he was guilty.

“How is the lab going? Which step are you on?”

Cara had let George answer Mr. Shion’s questions, quietly returning to the data sheet she was supposed to be filling out and counting down the minutes until the bell rang.

The kindly woman at the hospital guest entrance recognized Cara and sent her up to Maya’s room, but as soon as she got up to the ward Cara knew something was wrong. Maya was supposed to be in the orthopedics wing. This was a completely different part of the hospital, a far-flung ward beyond a locked set of doors bearing a large biohazard symbol. Cara asked about it at the nurse’s station and the staff on duty all gave her grim looks. The doctor, a tall stocky woman with a kind face, explained to Cara that Maya’s surgery had been successful but that she had fallen into a coma. She frowned when Cara asked why she had been put in the quarantined ward. “Your friend has had some strange symptoms that match those of a few of our other patients, so she was brought up here. We don’t know what’s causing it yet,” she admitted. She would take Cara to Maya’s room only if she agreed to undergo a decontamination procedure afterwards.

They stopped outside Maya’s room. “She won’t know that you’re there,” the doctor warned, before letting Cara inside.

Maya looked peaceful, like she was simply asleep. She was hooked up to a tangle of tubes and sensors. The heart monitor in the corner beeped a reassuring steady rhythm as her chest slowly rose and fell.

Cara felt nauseous. It was just like before. Stark hospital rooms, equipment with inscrutable blinking panels, doctors who spoke in low, serious whispers—except that this time there was no discussion of one-year odds or five-year odds or recovery and remission. There couldn’t be. The doctors didn’t even know what was wrong. Her anxiety must have shown on her face, because without even asking one of the nurses brought her a packet of nutritional crackers and a cup of hot, strong tea.

Maya’s father arrived not long after Cara did, once his shift at the airport had ended. He was a bear of a man, with a bushy mustache that twitched when he smiled, but right now he looked pale and shaken. He pulled her into a crushing hug when he saw the tears streaming down her face. Cara hugged him back, hiding her face in the thick reflective fabric of his uniform and sobbing outright.

Cara’s parents were diplomats, and therefore frequently traveled to No. 4 for days or weeks at a time. Cara hardly missed them, though; they only seemed to take an interest in her life when she was not performing up to par on their seemingly endless list of expectations. Her grades, her athletic performance, her piano skills—none of it had ever been good enough. But she had her brother George, who was subject to the same level of scrutiny and could therefore commiserate; and she had Maya and her family, who accepted her openly and without judgement. Over the years Maya’s small but cozy apartment had come to feel like home, and her own parents’ grand house on the river was simply the place where Cara slept every night.

Maya’s father kept one arm around her shoulders as she recounted the story of her day. He then told her that she needed a change of scenery and sent her to the hospital cafeteria to get them dinner. They sat together eating blandly flavored pasta and talking quietly until late in the evening, when he insisted that she go back home and get some rest.

“Will you stay with her tomorrow?” Cara asked before she left. She rubbed her eyes, which had grown heavy from exhaustion.

Maya’s father sighed. “No,” he said, “I will still have to work until the evening. But don’t worry, the doctors and nurses will take good care of her.”

Cara had a hard time falling asleep that night. She hadn’t done any of her homework, either, but that didn’t matter. She had decided to skip school the next day and stay at the hospital until Maya’s father got off work. George and Mauro agreed to help conceal her absence from her parents. George would feed plausible excuses for Cara’s absence to the neighbor who checked in on them at night, and Mauro, who was good with computers, would take advantage of a glitch in the school’s attendance system to prevent her absences from being recorded.

“This is the first rebellious thing you’ve ever done,” George had said, in a tone of awe.

“Shut up,” she had replied.

Cara had tossed and turned for hours before giving in and going into her parents’ medicine cabinet to find the sleeping pills she knew they kept there. She was likely to get in trouble for that too, when they returned. For once, though, the fear of her parents’ disappointment faded into the background, overshadowed by her worry about Maya; but soon enough the haze of the pills took over, and she settled into a dreamless sleep.

Cara arrived at the hospital early in the morning and stayed there all day. She brought some of Maya’s favorite books to read aloud. The doctors told her that Maya almost certainly couldn’t hear her, but Cara read on anyway. She had done this with Maya before, when the drugs to treat her cancer had made her too weak and lightheaded to read on her own for very long. Back then, Cara had been allowed to sit beside Maya on her bed and let Maya rest her head against her shoulder. The doctors didn’t think that was a good idea now, since they couldn’t be sure how the disease she had might spread. So she sat on the chair by Maya’s bedside and simply hoped that she could hear her.

She hadn’t bothered lying to Maya’s father when he asked her how long she had been at the hospital. He had just shaken his head with an understanding smile. He did the same when he sent her home again and asked if she would come stay with Maya the next day. Cara couldn’t see the point in going to school when Maya was like this; she didn’t think she would be able to focus at all, and she didn’t want Maya to be alone if she woke up.

Today she had brought the homework George had given her from the day before. The literature, history, and pre-calculus assignments were all dull but reasonably manageable. Her chemistry assignment, however, was a follow-up to the lab they had done on Monday, and Cara found herself utterly lost. She imagined that she could hear Mr. Shion asking her questions about what was confusing her—or rather, she thought she was imagining it, until she realized that really _was_ Mr. Shion’s voice, because he was standing in the hallway.

Cara panicked and ran to the bathroom to hide leaving the door open a crack so that she could hear what Mr. Shion was saying. Dr. Khalil was talking to him and two other people: Dr. Anna, the other tenth-year science teacher, and the tall dark-haired man who had been with him before at the botanical gardens. Dr. Anna looked worried, and the other man—Mr. Shion called him Nezumi—wore a neutral expression, his eyes dark and smooth like glass.

Mr. Shion looked almost unrecognizable. He stood perfectly upright and still, jaw set and forehead creased. All of the usual kindness in his manner had vanished, replaced by sharp-eyed determination. He spoke in quiet, steady tones, his voice emotionless and flat. The only feeling he gave off was one of coldness. He reminded her of one of the politicians her parents worked with—not the ones who made public appearances, presenting a vision of hope and happiness to their constituents, but the ones who worked behind the scenes, organizing and negotiating and ultimately wielding the real power and control. It was frightening, to see Mr. Shion like that.

Dr. Khalil was telling them the same things he had explained to her two days ago, only with slightly more technical language. The adults didn’t spend much time in Maya’s room: Mr. Shion and Dr. Anna asked some questions, although Cara didn’t learn anything she hadn’t already known. Cara followed them down the hallway to hear the rest of their conversation, taking care not to be seen.

“So what does it mean?” Nezumi was asking.

“It looks similar enough to what we saw before,” Shion replied. “I don’t know how much the doctors will be able to do here. I think we really do have to go after the source.”

Nezumi went slightly paler at his words, and Dr. Anna looked frightened, but they both nodded their agreement.

“You’re probably right,” Nezumi said. “That was how we stopped the parasite wasps.”

“There’s one more thing I want to check,” Dr. Anna said. “Ayami’s blood samples would still be stored here, and I want to talk to the lab technicians.”

Cara didn’t know what parasite wasps were, or who Ayami was. Dr. Anna, Mr. Shion, and his friend spoke to Dr. Khalil for a while longer, but most of their conversation was in medical jargon and therefore incomprehensible. This was another surprise; she had known that Dr. Anna had been some sort of scientist before becoming a teacher, but she wouldn’t have suspected that Mr. Shion had so much knowledge of medicine.

Cara was beginning to wonder how it was that her science teacher had become involved in all of this. What had brought him to the hospital? Why were he and Dr. Anna and the man with the strange name talking about going to a forest in order to save the patients here? Why did the city of No. 6 keep coming up in their conversations? Cara could only make sense of bits and pieces. The one thing that seemed certain was that Mr. Shion seemed to know something about how to cure whatever disease it was that Maya and the other patients had—and no matter how much her teacher scared her, that knowledge made her hopeful.

Dr. Anna eventually left to go to the hospital lab, and Dr. Khalil went to check on his patients, leaving Mr. Shion and Nezumi alone in the hallway. Cara continued to crouch behind a potted plant with large green leaves and prayed they wouldn’t notice her.

“How is it possible that this is happening again?” Mr. Shion was asking in a low voice.

“I don’t know.” Cara wasn’t sure, but she thought she could see Nezumi reach out and grasp Mr. Shion’s hand. “But we’re going to do something about it. We were able to stop the wasps before. We can do it again.”

Mr. Shion frowned. “We can’t be so certain. You don’t have a connection with this being the same way you did with the Forest God.”

“I wasn’t the one who convinced Elyurias to spare the citizens of No. 6,” Nezumi said. “I seem to recall that it was you who did that. We can afford to have hope.”

Mr. Shion glanced down the hallway, and Cara tried to shrink herself as much as possible. Mr. Shion still didn’t see her. “Obviously we have to do what we can. I just…” He turned to look up at Nezumi again. “I know it shouldn’t make a difference, but that’s my student. She’s bright and she works hard and she’s already survived one deadly disease. It isn’t right for her to die like this. I want to have hope, Nezumi.” Mr. Shion’s expression darkened. “I just don’t want my judgment clouded by it.”

Nezumi stepped closer to him. “Shion—”

A slight buzzing came from Mr. Shion’s pocket, making him jump slightly. Nezumi wrapped a protective arm around his back as if on instinct.

Mr. Shion pulled out his communicator. “It’s from Dr. Conti,” he said.

“‘Construction staff will meet you at central train station at 0630 to take you to forest site. I have information for you at my office. Car is waiting for you at hospital’,” Nezumi read. He looked at Mr. Shion, whose expression had become expressionless again. “So it’s decided. We’re going.”

Mr. Shion nodded. “Then we shouldn’t waste any more time.”

The two of them finally left the ward. Cara cautiously peeked her head out, trying to understand everything she had heard. She went back to Maya’s room and tried to finish the homework she had abandoned what felt like hours ago; but her thoughts wouldn’t stop spinning mad, dizzying circles in her mind until she couldn’t stand it anymore.

“What should I do?” she asked quietly, knowing that Maya could not hear her. The heart monitor continued to beep softly. “You would tell me to be brave.” She looked down at her own hands, which were shaking. A wild, foolish plan began forming in her mind.

_I can’t stand this. I can’t just sit and watch this happen again. I have to do something._

Cara took a deep breath.

_I’m going to be brave for you, Maya._

 

* * *

 

Nezumi listened in silence as Anna and Shion discussed what she had learned from the lab technicians at the hospital. It had not been much of value. They would pull Ayami’s blood and tissue samples out from storage and compare them to the data they had gathered from the current patients and to the sample Shion gave them. Anna explained all of this to Dr. Conti over the car’s communication system.

“Speaking of Ayami,” Anna said, “Have you contacted her wife? We should probably see if she still has her old journal.”

“I have not,” Conti’s voice said curtly. “Rin is not particularly fond of me.”

“I talked to her before I left, but I didn’t ask about a journal,” Nezumi said. He pulled out his communicator.

  * _I have more questions for you._



Rin’s reply was almost instantaneous.

  * _About Ayami?_


  * _Yes._


  * _Why?_



Nezumi looked up. “How much can I tell Rin?”

Anna glanced at him. “Whatever you want. She’s smart enough not to spread panicked rumors.”

  * _We think that the infection that killed her has returned. There’s about twenty patients at the university hospital showing the same symptoms._



It took Rin longer to reply this time.

  * _What do you want to know?_


  * _Do you still have Ayami’s journal from that expedition?_



Another pause.

  * _Yes. But I doubt it will be useful to you._


  * _How much do you know about the disease that killed your wife?_


  * _I only really know what Anna told me, and I’m sure she’s already told you all of it._


  * _What about the entity she encountered in the forest?_


  * _Ayami didn’t tell me anything, if that’s what you mean._


  * _Do you know anything else that could be useful?_



Nezumi waited for a response, but none came.

Their brief car ride to the main university campus was silent. The biological sciences building was much quieter too, now that it was evening, but there were still a few figures hunched over lab benches in some of the rooms they passed. Conti’s office was the only one with the light on in the hallway. There were stacks of old books and a pile of paper maps on her desk when they arrived.

“I’ve been looking for data on the forest from before the current century,” she explained. “After looking at your data on the Forest People I wondered if there was a similar history here.”

“Did you find anything?”

Dr. Conti shrugged. “Not much of use. The forest was populated by humans until they were wiped out in the last war. Large swathes of the forest were destroyed, too, but its recovery was remarkably rapid after the wars ended. That was why we were doing research there in the first place. The people who used to live there were not like the Forest People, though. The primary industries were logging and mining until about a hundred years ago, when parts of it became a nature reserve. I can’t find any mention of anything like this Elyurias you encountered, not even in folktales or urban legends.”

“Does that mean that it’s only been in the forest for a short time?”

“Or that it’s been good at hiding from humans,” Nezumi said. “Elyurias was known only to the Forest People until Rou came along.”

“So what do we know?” Anna asked, her tone serious and businesslike. “Do we have enough information to make a real plan?”

Dr. Conti tapped her pen on the desk as she scrolled through notes on her computer. “We know the entity is unwelcoming to humans in its forest. We know that construction on the forest began a few weeks ago, which likely angered it. We know that the entity is capable of controlling several species of spiders and mammals, apparently including humans, and we have a working theory of how it uses low-frequency sound waves to do so. And we know the way that it controls them also makes it capable of killing them.”

“Do we have a way of replicating its sound signals?”

“No. We can decode them and we can play back recordings but can’t generate them ourselves.”

“That doesn’t sound like enough information to figure out how to stop the infections happening here,” Shion said.

“It’s like you said at the hospital: we have to go find this creature to learn how to stop it.” Nezumi glanced at Shion, who looked grim. “If it’s anything like Elyurias, it’s the only one capable of curing those people.”

“I don’t think we should give up on the doctors yet,” Anna said. “They might still find something.”

“But if they don’t…”

“Then this is our best chance,” Dr. Conti said.

“It’s going to be angry,” Anna said. “We broke our promise to it. I don’t know how we can convince it to spare us a second time.”

“Shion can be quite persuasive.” Nezumi saw Shion’s expression darken, and his own small smile disappeared. “Is there anything we can offer it? The Forest People appeased Elyurias with a certain kind of offering.”

Neither Dr. Conti nor Anna had any suggestions. “If nothing else, the railway will have to be redirected around the forest, if Shelob is just going to kill every human who tries to come through it.”

“The new railway is an early part of a much larger plan to begin resettling this continent,” Shion pointed out. “People are going to find this forest again.”

“That’s a problem for another day,” Dr. Conti said brusquely. Nezumi noticed the briefest flash of annoyance cross Shion’s face. “Your mission now is to figure out how to save the infected people and prevent the disease from spreading through No. 5.”

Anna glared at her. “You’re not coming with us?”

“I would only slow you down. And since I was the one who promised Shelob I would prevent more humans coming into its forest, I don’t think my chances of surviving another encounter with it are high.”

“Is that why it killed Rin’s wife?” Nezumi asked. “Because she broke a promise to it?”

Dr. Conti looked at Anna, who shook her head. “We don’t know why it chose to kill Ayami. I doubt that was what happened, though. Ayami wasn’t the type of person to do that.”

“There’s a chance that there’s an explanation in her personal journal,” Dr. Conti said. “Did you manage to get in touch with Rin?”

Nezumi nodded. “She still has it. I’ll see if I can convince her to show it to us.”

He began typing a series of messages to Rin while still trying to the follow the technical conversation the other three were having about the forest’s ecology. Rin couldn’t see the point in showing them any of Ayami’s journals—they were personal records, not research notes, she explained. She was reluctant to let Dr. Conti get her hands on them.

  * _What you are going to do?_


  * _We’re going to the forest. We’re going to see if we can stop this._



There was another long pause before Rin replied.

  * _Isn’t it dangerous?_


  * _Yes._


  * _I don’t think you should go._


  * _Why not?_



There was no response from Rin.

It was fully night by the time they had finalized a plan. Anna and Dr. Conti had argued over the exact location where they had encountered Shelob the first time, and then he had argued with Shion about how long they would search before pulling the plug on their mission, and then all of them had argued about the exact equipment they needed to bring.

“You should take this, too,” Dr. Conti said, pulling a small black pistol from under her desk.

Nezumi recognized it. It was the same model which Shion had used to kill the military officer in the Correctional Facility. Shion’s expression was hard and his eyes had become like dark glass.

_I know what you’re thinking, Shion. Please do not get lost down that path._

The memory was painful. A cruel face, the sound of a gunshot right beside his ear, the frightful emotionlessness in Shion’s eyes. His own weakness.

_I don’t want to see it._

Nezumi didn’t want to see the monster. He wanted Shion to stay as he was. Even after all this time, ten years when of course Shion would change, as all people did as they grew, as he himself had changed—the hypocrisy of it twisted his stomach, but still he found himself wishing for Shion’s younger, more idealistic, more innocent self. The Shion who had not killed. The Shion he had not broken and abandoned.

Nezumi knew better than to wish for impossible things, but he wished anyway.

Shion shook his head. “It’s unnecessary. It won’t stop this Forest God and you told us that there aren’t any humans or large predators living in the forest.”

Nezumi felt a strange sense of relief.

“It’s simply a precaution. You don’t know what you’re going to encounter,” Dr. Conti said.

Shion shook his head. “I’m not taking it,” he said firmly.

Dr. Conti glanced at Anna, who bit her lip but remained silent, and then at Nezumi, who shook his head. She shrugged. “Suit yourself. I will have all of your equipment ready for you at the train station in the morning. Is there anything else we need to discuss?”

Nezumi carefully examined the expressions of the other two. Anna looked worried, but determined, and nodded at him. Shion’s expression was simply blank.

“Then I believe we are done here,” Dr. Conti said. “Good luck.”

 

* * *

 

It was something of a relief to step out into the cool air, finally quiet and alone with Nezumi. The adrenalin which had wired its way through him, making it difficult to maintain a calm composure, was finally beginning to wear away, although his thoughts would not settle with it. That was fine. Shion was used to this feeling, of his mind being pushed to capacity. This was another urgent problem that needed to be solved, and it required every fiber of his focus.

“I suppose it really is all happening again,” Nezumi said softly.

“Yes.” Shion couldn’t read his expression. He was forced to guess at what Nezumi was thinking. Images from back then—stark, inhuman hallways, cold-eyed soldiers, and bodies piled upon each other in a massive, bloody, rotting heap—flashed through his mind. He would not let himself forget them, but right now they were a distraction. He pushed them away. “I’m sorry that you’ve been dragged into it.”

“What are you talking about? I wouldn’t let you do something this dangerous on your own. And it’s not as if this was your fault. You and I just happen to have some experience that makes us useful.”

Shion shrugged. “If I had made more of an effort to spread information about the Forest God to the other cities…”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference. And if anyone had the right to decide how much the world could know about Elyurias, it was me, as the last remaining member of the Forest People. You couldn’t have prevented this, Shion. Don’t turn this into another thing to feel guilty about.”

Shion leaned into Nezumi’s shoulder, very briefly, and then stood upright again, forcing himself to appear calm. He gave Nezumi a small nod. “Okay,” he said. “You’re right. There are more important things to be thinking about.”

“Like how we’re going to stop this.” Nezumi reached for his hand and pulled him close. “It does seem like a large risk for a small chance of success. But we’ve survived greater danger together, I think.”

Shion nodded. He squeezed Nezumi’s hand, grateful that for his strength and support. He had faced many crises before, alone; Nezumi’s presence at his side seemed to make a sliver of the usual burden fall away. His heart rate slowed, just slightly.

They were nearing the bus stop. Shion noticed that Nezumi’s communicator was glowing from his pocket. He could see the notification on the screen when he pulled it out.

_[1 unread voicemail]_

Nezumi’s brow creased. “It’s from Rin,” he said.

Shion watched Nezumi open the message from Rin and put his communicator to his ear. His face went pale and his hand dropped to his side; Shion could see that the message was only a few seconds long.

“What’s the matter? What did she say?”

“My name,” Nezumi said, like he himself didn’t believe it.

“Nezumi?”

He shook his head. “My true name.”

 

* * *

 


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

 

 

_If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight,_  
_Let it be tenable in your silence still._  
_And whatsoever else shall hap to-night,_  
_Give it an understanding, but no tongue._  
-William Shakespeare, _Hamlet_ , Act I, scene 2

 

* * *

 

It had not been difficult to find Rin’s address in the theater company’s records, a quaint townhouse in a quiet residential district near the university. He rapped sharply on the door and Rin opened it almost immediately, as if she had been expecting him.

“I have questions.” Nezumi pulled the door shut behind him with a resounding thud.

Rin flashed him a broad, welcoming smile. “Do you want something to drink? You can sit anywhere.”

It was an act, one he’d seen her put on before. It irritated him. 

“How do you know my name?”

“Skipping the formalities, I suppose.” The smile disappeared. “How do you think?”

“What I think is impossible. So you’re going to have to explain it to me.”

“Why is it impossible?”

“Because only the Forest People would have known that name, and all of them are dead.”

Silver eyes locked on his own. Her voice was low and almost reverently quiet. “And yet you and I are still here, aren’t we?”

Nezumi stepped closer so that there was barely an inch between them. Rin returned his gaze with equanimity, arms crossed.

“I want an explanation.”

“For what?”

“For everything.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“How did you escape the massacre?”

“I wasn’t there,” she said, simply. “I had left the forest before it occurred.”

“Why?”

Rin’s forehead creased. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I’ll decide that after you tell me.”

Rin sighed, rubbing her temples. “I didn’t want to live in the forest. I didn’t want to spend my whole life in the same place with the same people, married off to a man I didn’t love and worshipping a fickle Forest God. I was young and I wanted to know about the rest of the world. So I ran away.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before now?”

Rin’s forehead creased. “Because I wasn’t sure who you were. Light eyes and dark hair is a much more common combination in this part of the world. That two people from the same tiny population thousands of miles away could somehow end up in the same city seemed to push the limits of probability. That was why I asked Gerente to hire you and why I wanted to gain your friendship,” she admitted. “I wanted to see if I could find out more about who you were.”

“I see you managed to figure it out,” Nezumi said flatly.

“It took a while for all the memories to come back,” Rin said, brow furrowed as if she were still not perfectly certain. “But there were only so many children, and even fewer were the right age. And…” Rin turned her eyes away from Nezumi. “You look just like your mother,” she said softly.

Nezumi had wracked his memories over and over, and his only memory of the woman remained the one where she had burned, holding his infant sister in her arms. He pushed it aside. His gaze fell upon a small framed photo: in it was Rin, maybe a decade younger and wearing a sleek black suit, and beside her a woman with long chestnut hair and a kind smile who wore an elegant white gown. Nezumi’s anger began to drain from his chest.

He stepped away from Rin and ran his fingers through his hair. “Why don’t you tell me everything from the beginning?” he said, his voice softer than before.

“It’s a rather long story.”

“I’ve got all night.”

Rin shrugged. She settled herself in a high-backed chair near the window. A sleek black cat appeared and curled itself up at her feet. Its amber eyes watched Nezumi carefully as he seated himself across from Rin.

“I suppose you were probably too young to remember very much about the Forest People,” Rin said. “You were what, four? Five? Do you remember anything at all?”

Nezumi nodded. He explained about the old woman who had helped him survive.

“She was a fiesty old thing,” Rin said, an air of nostalgia in her smile. “We butted heads rather a lot. I was a rebellious child.”

“You didn’t like living in the forest.”

“I knew that what we did to preserve the forest was important. But I also knew I would never be satisfied by that life. I had caught glimpses of the larger world and I wanted to experience it firsthand. I wanted to be free.”

“So you left.”

“You have to understand,” Rin said, her words quick and straining slightly, “That I loved my family and my people. I never wanted to abandon them. If I had known the massacre was coming—”

“There was nothing you could have done,” Nezumi said, shaking his head. “If you hadn’t left you would have burned with the rest of them.”

Rin stared at him in blank-eyed silence for a moment and then turned her gaze back toward the window, her voice normal again. “I managed to survive in the West Block for a while. It wasn’t a particularly safe place for a young woman. But I heard a rumor that if you could make it to the coast there were ships which would take you to No. 2 for the right price. The ghettos there are marginally nicer than the West Block, and I managed to make an existence there for a while.

“That was when I first met Ayami. For various reasons I was injured and on the run from the police. She let me in, treated my wounds, and gave me a place to hide for the night. I had never expected to be shown such kindness by a stranger. She saved my life,” she said softly, a slight smile on her face. “I would likely have perished from my injury if she had not helped me.”

“But her parents discovered what she had done.” Rin sighed, and her expression hardened. “Ayami had hidden a runaway criminal—and worse, she had let another woman sleep in her bed. Her family were devout practitioners of a religion which forbids same-sex relations, and so disowned her and sent her to live with her grandparents in an isolated farming district. I had been taught not to cause problems for others and yet I had caused her to suffer anyway. It grated on me, but there was nothing I could do.

“I had enough problems of my own. I had to find a way to earn money in order to get myself off the streets and establish myself as a legal citizen. Eventually I was able to enroll in a performing arts degree program and Ayami was able to leave for university. We met again when she was trying to find a place to stay while she finished her studies. I had come here because I had heard that there were theater jobs available, and she had transferred to the university here for her final semester of study. I wanted to repay the debt I felt I owed her. She lived with me for a few months until she found a paid research position and could afford a place on her own. She wanted to keep living together, but I had a policy of not staying in one place for that long. My feelings for Ayami had become too strong. If I had learned anything, it was not to get too attached to anyone or anything. So I left.

“I wandered from city to city for several years. It was something of a relief, at first, to be that free, beholden to no one’s wishes but my own. The only place I avoided was No. 5—I think I was afraid of meeting Ayami again. It was a long time before I decided to return to this city.” Rin glanced at the wedding photo on the wall and her smile warmed. “I meant to stay for a few days and instead never wound up leaving. I loved her. The years we were married were the happiest of my life.”

There was a small number of slightly worn brown books on the shelf, nestled beside what looked like an extensive collection of plays. Rin took one off the shelf and began turning it over in her hands.

“Ayami would often be gone for weeks or months at a time in remote areas of the world and I was part of the theater company’s traveling cast, so we were apart more than I liked. Every time one of us left, we would take one of these journals so we could write messages for each other. It was Ayami’s idea. I know it seems ridiculous in a world with such advanced communication technology, but having the physical copy felt like more of a real connection than just the occasional email. I could open one of the older volumes and it was like I could hear Ayami speaking to me, even when she was half a world away.”

Rin’s eyes hardened and her smile disappeared. “The expeditions were not supposed to be dangerous. Ayami was a capable medic and she was tougher than she looked. The worst that had ever happened to her were sunburns and minor cuts and scrapes. I didn’t have a reason to worry when she left for the forest. And then one day I got a message from Conti that she had fallen ill and was being taken to the hospital. But I was still on tour with the theater company, and by the time I was able to fly back to No. 5 she was already gone.”

Rin fell silent. The sound of it seemed to resonate throughout the house, like a chill wind had come through an unseen open window. Nezumi let the feeling settle and still.

“I believe it’s your turn now,” Rin said, finally, in her usual cool tone. “How did you end up here?”

Nezumi explained, as simply and briefly as he could. Rin reacted very little to the story he told, and was quiet for a long moment after Nezumi finished. “Your Shion sounds very much like my Ayami,” she said, finally.

“How much do you know about what killed her?” Nezumi asked, unwilling to lose any more time than was necessary.

Rin’s forehead creased. “It was almost certainly another Forest God like the one the Forest People worshipped. Anna tried to explain to me how it used its parasitic young to control the forest animals. I understand that they had angered it and it apparently chose to take Ayami’s life as a result. I think…” Rin hesitated. She looked up at Nezumi. “How much do you know about our Forest God? You wouldn’t remember it, would you?”

“I know about it. The old woman taught me.”

Rin nodded. “Ayami was fascinated by the Forest God and our people’s relationship with it. She was always asking for stories of the forest. And due to my own weakness, I gave her a rose-colored version of the truth. I told her idyllic stories about a peaceful people who cared for the forest and occasionally made offerings to a kind but mysterious being. I didn’t tell her the true details about how we appeased the Forest God and I certainly didn’t tell her why I wanted to leave. I didn’t see the harm in it. I thought my people were gone, and I never imagined that Ayami would ever encounter another Forest God like the one we worshipped. But the fact that I distorted the truth put Ayami in danger. She didn’t know how dangerous the Forest Gods can be. I gave her the impression that they were benevolent, and so she didn’t know to fear this one as she should have. I’m sure that was why it chose to kill her.”

Nezumi watched Rin carefully as she clenched and unclenched her fist. The black cat jumped up into her lap and stuck its head under her hand; Nezumi could see her relaxing slightly as she stroked its sleek fur.

“I lost everything,” Rin said, her voice still hard. “I found a home with Ayami after No. 6 took away my family, and then she was taken away from me too. The Forest Gods are not benevolent, Nezumi. They don’t prioritize human life over any other species. It isn’t worth it to risk your life trying to reason with one.”

Nezumi shook his head. “I’ve watched enough people die. If there is something I can do to prevent this, then I’m going to do it.”

For the first time, Rin looked frightened. “There is no reason for you to go after it. There is nothing you can do.”

“Shion and I managed to convince the Forest God to spare the people of No. 6. We have to try to protect the people of this city, too.”

“These aren’t our people,” Rin said, gesturing toward the window. “You owe them nothing. We are the last remaining members of the Forest People, Nezumi. Don’t risk your life for something with such a small chance of success.”

Nezumi was silent. He was still adjusting himself to the idea that he wasn’t alone in the way he had believed himself to be for over fifteen years. The knowledge was making him feel empty, rather than full.

“Let Anna and Shion go,” Rin continued. “Isn’t there something that can be done here, where the infected people are?”

“That wasn’t the solution when we encountered the Forest God before. If the doctors can’t do anything, there’s little chance that I could do anything for the infected people here.” He frowned. “And I can’t let Shion do something this risky on his own.”

“Don’t you trust him?”

“He remains the only person I fully trust. That doesn’t mean I can let him walk into danger without protection.”

Her gray eyes narrowed. “Isn’t that what you did when you left him behind in No. 6?”

The words were intended to sting, to cause pain, and they did. Nezumi wouldn’t let it show.

“If you’ve got no other useful information for me, I’m going to take that journal and bid you good night.”

“No.”

A denial. Soft, almost inaudible, but with the weight and finality of death.

Nezumi stood up, which caused Rin’s cat to hiss at him. Hot anger was rising within him again, mingled with the sharp taste of fear. “So you’re refusing to help me?” 

“I am helping you. I’m telling you not to go.”

“You won’t even show me the journal?”

“Conti has all of Ayami’s research notes. The journals were private. There isn’t anything of value in here, not to anyone but me.”

“Are you certain that there’s no information inside that could be useful? When was the last time you read it?”

Rin scowled, clenching the book with both hands. “I haven’t read it.”

“What?” Nezumi’s voice came out as a growl.

“This is the last piece of her I have left.” Rin’s voice was sharp and cold. “And now the last remaining member of my family is threatening to go off to face certain death the same way. I can’t allow this.” She took a deep breath, and her voice softened. “I refuse to lose you, too.”

Nezumi paused. Rin had lost just as much as he had, if not more. Both of them had lost their families to No. 6, and both of them had suffered and struggled in trying to establish a foothold on life in a cruel and unforgiving world. Nezumi could not discount or brush aside her pain, as it had been the same as his own.

Except Nezumi still had Shion.

Nezumi understood why Rin did not want him to risk his life. But he refused to risk losing Shion. Shion would face this danger with or without Nezumi, and he could not let Shion go alone.

“I’m going whether or not you give me the journal,” Nezumi said. “If you’re really so concerned about my safety, you would give me the best chance of survival by handing it over.”

Rin stared at him, her expression perfectly blank and still and her eyes like molten silver. She clenched the small brown volume in her hands and said nothing.

“Fine.” Nezumi stood up and headed for the door. “Goodbye.”

His hand was on the doorknob when he heard Rin call his name. Quiet but commanding and firm. The sound of it rooted him in place.

It was now the second time he had heard it spoken aloud. The word had sharp edges and it pierced through his heart, dealing a painful, crashing blow to the barrier he had built around its core. He thought he had strengthened himself by casting it away, and instead it had left him more open and vulnerable than ever. A weakness he could not afford right now.

“Do not use that name,” he said, in a tone equally quiet and twice as threatening as Rin’s.

“Don’t go.”

And then she repeated it. That thing which belonged buried in the past.

It enraged him.

He shoved Rin up against the wall, his arm across her throat and the tip of his knife against her skin. She did not resist him, but instead pursed her lips into a small whistle. Claws dug into the skin of his back and teeth latched into the hair that was tied at the back of his neck. He cried out but did not let go of Rin, who simply watched him with the same blank gaze as her clawed companion tore at his skin.

“Is this really your plan?” she asked. The weight of Nezumi’s arm across her windpipe made her voice sound strange. “To threaten the life of your only living kin over something so insignificant? I had thought better of you than that.”

The mad ball of fur was still clawing and hissing at his back. He tried to shake it off, and Rin took the opportunity to slip out of his grasp.

“Thank you, Tori,” she said. The cat almost immediately returned to its previous unpuffed serenity, although its eyes remained fixed on Nezumi.

“He’s intelligent,” Nezumi said, more of an accusation than anything else.

Rin smirked. “I’ll have to reward him for that later.”

“That was underhanded.”

“You were the one who foolishly went in for an attack without considering all the possible danger,” Rin replied evenly. “I hope he didn’t hurt you too badly.”

“I’ve had much worse.” Nezumi turned away. “It’s obvious I’ve been outmatched. I think it’s time I left.”

“Wait.”

Nezumi ignored her, and opened the door.

“I can’t give you the journal, but I can read it. I’ll send you anything that might be of use to you.”

Nezumi watched her carefully, but all he could see was worry and a small tinge of something which smelled of fear.

“Is that a promise?”

Rin gave a single nod.

“Works for me.” Nezumi stepped out the door. “Good night.”

But before he pulled the door shut he felt Rin’s fingers grasp his wrist.

“Please be careful,” she whispered.

Her voice was even and her expression was as calm and impenetrable as ever, but her eyes were wide and her fingers trembled.

Nezumi embraced her, gentle and brief. She was thinner and softer than Shion, but she was just as warm as the man who was waiting for him. The man Nezumi had begun to realize had become his home.

_Living people are warm._

Rin stepped back into the house. “We still have a lot to discuss.”

Nezumi smiled, ever so slightly. “I’ll be sure to come back alive, then.”

He shut the door behind him, gently, and set off into the night.

 

* * *

 

Shion had propped himself up on the bed, attempting to read through as much as possible of the data Dr. Conti had given them. He felt exhausted and wired through with anxiety at the same time: he would have to wait until Nezumi returned to attempt to sleep. He wondered whether it was worth it to even try, since they would be leaving so early in the morning.

_You know what happens when you stay up all night._ Shion could hear Nezumi’s voice in his head, admonishing him. Gentle and kind and concerned, and nothing like the person he had known ten years ago.

Two days prior Nezumi had requested that Shion go for a walk with him after he returned from school. They had reached a secluded corner of a nearby park when Nezumi turned to him, a storm of worry in his eyes.

“Shion. Are you happy, with me here?”

Shion had been surprised by the question. He had been expecting Nezumi to demand an explanation of his direct confession of love from the night before, or of his history with the Restructural Committee in No. 6, both of which had been weighing on his own mind. He had never imagined that Nezumi would worry about such a small thing.

“Of course I’m happy,” he’d told Nezumi.

“I think that’s a lie, Shion.”

An uncomfortable tightness seized Shion’s chest. “I’m sorry. It isn’t a lie, though. It’s just…”

“Just what, Shion?” Nezumi asked, after Shion had been silent for too long.

“You don’t know what I was like before,” Shion said, quietly. “Before, I was just… existing. It was like I was when I was still living in Chronos. I know it might be difficult to tell, but I’ve felt so much more alive since you’ve returned.”

“You’re right. It’s hard to tell.”

Shion hadn’t really known how to explain it. “It feels like I’m thawing,” he’d said. “I locked away so much of myself, I think, the good with the bad, and all of it is coming back together. It used to be easy to just ignore everything. But now you’re here, and I don’t feel numb anymore. I’m happier than I’ve ever been. But it seems that all the painful memories come with it.” He turned back to Nezumi. “So if I don’t seem as cheerful or optimistic as I used to, I suppose that’s why.”

Nezumi seemed to accept this answer, as he slid his fingers between Shion’s and pressed them gently against his palm. “Okay,” he said simply.

Shion squeezed his hand gently in return. “Nezumi.”

“Hm?”

“Are you happy?”

The corner of Nezumi’s lips had turned upward. “I have all the food, clothing, and money I need, I get to sleep in a comfortable bed every night, and I live with a person who seems to enjoy putting my dick in his mouth. I don’t have any right _not_ to be happy.”

Shion nudged Nezumi’s shoulder. “That’s really all I am to you?”

“Of course not.” Nezumi nudged him back. “Even before I returned, I had this feeling that as long as I had you, I would have everything I could possibly want. And I was right,” he said, softly. “I can’t remember ever being this happy.”

Shion wasn’t sure how it could possibly be true. But he also knew that Nezumi would not lie about such things. Shion was certain that he could not give Nezumi everything he needed, not the way he was now—quiet and dull and burdened by the weight of the past. But it seemed that Nezumi either had not noticed or did not care, and that would have to be enough for now.

Shion shook himself and went back to reading. He could not afford to be slowed down by sentiment and doubt. There was a crisis before him which needed to be dealt with. His own selfish emotions would have to be put aside.

  
Nezumi returned later than he was expecting. He looked rather windblown and when he came to sit on the bed beside Shion he could feel his chilled body drawing warmth away from the surrounding air. He didn’t speak, and barely glanced at Shion as he put on his sleep clothes. There were dark red scratches on the skin of his back.

“Nezumi?” Shion tentatively reached out to run his fingers gently over the wounds. They looked painful, but not deep. “I’ll put some medicine on these, wait there.”

Nezumi nodded. He remained silent and still as Shion gently wiped away the crusted blood and applied an antibacterial ointment. It looked as though he’d been attacked by an animal, like one of Inukashi’s dogs but with sharper claws. The scratches had torn across the old spiderlike burn scar in some places. It was the only part of Nezumi’s body over which he had not been granted free reign, the scar, and he treated it carefully, with reverence.

Shion capped the tube of medicine and placed it on the bedside stand. Nezumi’s skin was still cool. Shion handed him a clean shirt to wear and rubbed his arms in an effort to warm him. Nezumi remained silent and unmoving.

“Nezumi?”

“Hm.”

“What happened?”

Shion felt rather than heard Nezumi’s hesitation. He slowly turned towards Shion. “Rin is also one of the Forest People,” he said quietly.

Shion listened with all his concentration as Nezumi told him Rin’s story of how she had escaped the massacre and wound up in No. 5. Nezumi remained perfectly calm and steady as he spoke, but Shion knew that there must be a storm of emotion rising in his heart. Shion put his hand on Nezumi’s and Nezumi grasped it tightly.

“How do you feel about this, Nezumi?” he asked quietly, once he had finished speaking.

Nezumi was silent for a moment; Shion was not even sure he breathed. But in the next moment Shion was surprised to feel nearly the full weight of Nezumi’s body against his, as Nezumi had thrown himself across Shion, hiding his face in his chest.

“I don’t know,” he growled, as if angry with himself for it.

Shion wrapped his arms around Nezumi’s shoulders, taking care not to irritate his scratched skin. “That’s okay, you know. To not know.”

Nezumi shook his head but didn’t say anything.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Is it going to be sentimental nonsense?”

Shion laughed a little. “I suppose.”

“Then save it.”

“Okay,” Shion said simply. He ran his hand through Nezumi’s hair, smoothing it against his back. Nezumi’s body seemed to relax, if only slightly.

“I’m grateful that you’re here,” Nezumi said, so softly that Shion wasn’t sure he had heard him say it at all.

“Nezumi?”

“Don’t make me repeat it.”

“I won’t. I’m grateful you’re here, too.” He pulled up the blanket and tucked it around Nezumi’s shoulders.

Nezumi hummed, his eyes already shut.

It was true. Shion was grateful. He was grateful to have been reunited with Nezumi, and grateful for every moment they had spent together since. He would hold onto the memories tightly. In the end, it seemed that the time they’d spent together had only been the calm before a great storm. Unknown danger was ahead, and while Shion knew he and Nezumi had both endured great trials before, there was still no guarantee that they would return safely.

Shion pulled Nezumi slightly closer. The solid weight of his body seemed to have melted into Shion’s.

_Living people are warm._

“I love you.” He lightly pressed their lips together. “Good night.”

A heavy sigh.

“Good night, Shion.”

* * *

   
It was not yet late, but Nick and Matty were both asleep by the time Anna arrived home. Their cozy flat above the bakery was dark and suffused with the scent of cloves from the spice cookies the bakery had on special that day.

Anna dropped her heavy school bag on the kitchen table and collapsed into a chair. There was an unpleasant mix of anxiety and excitement coursing through her body. She was almost proud of the way she had maintained her composure at the hospital and Dr. Conti’s office, remaining calm and focused on the problem at hand, but now in the privacy of her own home the aftereffects of the adrenalin began to wash over her in nauseating waves. She had only been to the university hospital twice before: once when Ayami died, and once when Matty had gotten a serious fever as a newborn. None of the associated memories were pleasant. On the one hand, she was worried for the lives of the patients at the hospital, one of whom was even a student at her school. On the other hand, she was going—hopefully briefly—back to the world she had once dedicated her life to. Anna enjoyed teaching, but it had been a compromise made for the sake of her family. The longer she had stayed in one place, stayed within the confines of the city of No. 5, the more she longed to escape it and see what other wonders were out there in the wider world. Anna did not like to admit it, but there was a part of her which was eager to set off on this journey to the unknown forest.

Anna sighed, and then hauled herself out of the chair and began searching the kitchen for something to eat. It was not difficult, being married to a baker. In the fridge there was a plastic container full of pasta and meat sauce which had clearly been Nick and Matty’s dinner. A small note was taped to it: _For Momma_ , written inside a large, clumsily drawn heart that was clearly Matty’s artwork. It brought a small smile to her face.

The sound of the beeping microwave drew Nick into the kitchen. He immediately enveloped her in a warm, sleepy hug.

“Welcome home, muffin,” he said.

Anna squeezed him back. “Thanks for making my dinner,” she replied, taking a large bite of her food. Nick immediately perked up, eagerly telling her about the new recipe he had tried on recommendation from one of the bakery staff.

“The original one called for chili flakes in the sauce, but I didn’t think Matty would eat it,” he finished. “Do you like it?”

“It’s delicious,” Anna said, with a small laugh.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Because everything you make is delicious.”

Nick laughed in return. “That’s why you’re useless as a taste tester.”

“And yet you still make me taste test everything you make.” Anna kissed his cheek. “Did Matty go to sleep okay?”

Nick hesitated; but before he could say anything, the sounds of a door opening and of small feet pattering across the floor reached their ears.

“Momma’s home!” the little boy cried, crawling into Anna’s lap. She snuggled him close and pretended to nibble at his nose and cheeks, making him giggle and cry out. “No Momma! Not food!”

“Why don’t you let Momma finish her real food?” Nick said, gently pulling Matty into his own lap. This led to Matty declaring that he was hungry, too, and then a five minute argument between the boy and his parents about what he wanted to eat.

“So you’re really going tomorrow?” Nick said, as Matty chewed contentedly on a fish-shaped nutritional cracker that was only a little smaller than his fist.

Anna nodded. “Hopefully only for a few days.”

“Matty’s never been separated from one of us for that long.”

Anna nodded. “It can’t be helped. The two of you are tough, you’ll be okay.”

Nick flexed his arms, which were thickly muscled from days spent kneading dough and lifting heavy sacks of flour. “Did you hear that, Matty? Momma said we’re tough!”

“Tough!” Matty repeated, flexing his pudgy arms in imitation of his father.

The scene before her brought a smile to Anna’s face and a tightness to her chest. Moments like these swept away any doubts she held about the choice she had made to stay here. And now that she was leaving, it filled her with a new kind of resolve: to return home.

 

* * *

  

Dr. Conti met them at the train station with three expensive-looking ergonomic backpacks filled with supplies and necessities for the outdoors: tents, clothing, rations, compact satellite communicators, recording devices, and portable solar panels to supply energy to their equipment. Everything was made of ultralightweight but durable advanced plastics and carbon fiber so that they were no heavier than a few pounds. Nezumi remembered the years he’d spent traveling on foot, deciding what to bring based on the trade-off between its usefulness and how difficult it would be to carry with him. Here, no such compromises seemed to be necessary.

It was early enough that the sun had not yet risen, but the station was already buzzing with the movement of commuters on their way to work in various parts of the city. The track which led to the forest was in a remote corner of the station, insulated from the noise of people and departing trains. Their transportation, however, was not a train. A white specialized truck which could drive on the train rails was waiting for them instead.

“The truck can be driven manually or put on autopilot, as it simply follows the tracks,” Dr. Conti explained, reading off a list of notes on her communicator. “You’ll stop first at a workers’ camp half a kilometer south of the forest. The staff there will have more information and supplies. You should have enough rations for a week. The satcom can sync with your personal communicators but the bandwidth is limited so try to use text or audio rather than video. I will be sending you updates on the patients here as I get them. It goes without saying that I expect you to send me any useful information you find.” She snapped her communicator shut. “Any questions?”

All three of them shook their heads. Anna and Shion both looked serious but calm. Nezumi felt the same. Shion had asked him again this morning if he wanted to talk about Rin, but his answer had been the same: there was a more pressing issue at hand. They could not afford unnecessary distraction.

Dr. Conti gave them a single, sharp nod. “Then good luck.”

None of them knew what sort of danger was ahead and yet they sped towards it anyway, kicking up finely grained dirt in their wake. Anna’s eyes were moving rapidly over her old field notes and Shion was similarly scanning through the old documents Rou had given him over a decade ago. There was only silence within the vehicle. They had been through everything they knew, forwards and backwards, and now there was nothing left to discuss. Nezumi was waiting for Rin to send him the transcriptions of Ayami’s journal she had promised him, his communicator clenched in his palm, but no messages came.

_Patience_. That virtue Shion so often reminded him he lacked.

He reached for Shion’s hand, wanting only a reassurance of his steady presence. But Shion pulled his arm away, his brow creasing. His expression as he looked at Nezumi held reprimand.

_No distractions_.

Nezumi nodded, and pulled his hand away. He focused instead on the seemingly endless line of track ahead of them. The long shadows cast across the barren land by the rays of dawn slowly shortened.

A thin line of green appeared on the northern horizon.

Nezumi felt Shion tense beside him.

They had arrived.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of what I've been calling "Part 1" in my head. The next chapter probably won't be posted for a while. I realized that if I'm going to write complex plots, I sort of have to write them back to front, so I need to get all of "Part 2" sorted before I can start posting new chapters. Not making any promises to post anything before May, but hopefully this time I'll do it right and not have to retcon anything.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus begins Part 2. These chapters are going to be longer, and I'm going to try to update them roughly every two weeks. No promises. Also a warning: it gets a lot less fluffier from here on out. I'm chasing after a tone more like the light novels, which are really quite gritty. It's basically all action/adventure/mystery shenanigans from here on out. Hope you enjoy-

* * *

 

 

_The past alone is truly real: the present is but a painful, struggling birth into the immutable being of what is no longer. Only the dead exist fully. The lives of the living are fragmentary, doubtful, and subject to change; but the lives of the dead are complete, free from the sway of Time, the all but omnipotent lord of the world. Their failures and successes, their hopes and fears, their joys and pains, have become eternal—our efforts cannot now abate one jot of them._

-Bertrand Russell, _On History_

 

* * *

 

The tunnel was pitch black and its walls were slick with slime. Rin ran her hands over it as she searched for an exit. She had no idea how far she had traveled before her fingers brushed against a ladder, which took her aboveground and dumped her into an abandoned shipping yard. It was far from picturesque, but it was an ideal place to hide for the time being. She would have to find somewhere warmer, eventually, as the salty seawater which had soaked her clothes was wicking warmth away from her skin. The knife she had stolen was gripped tightly in her palm. The handle was worn but the blade was sharp, short and easy to conceal. Blood was oozing from the open wound on her leg, far too quickly for her liking. She would have to do something about it soon.

Rin was seventeen years old, and she was on the run.

There had been rumors, in the area that had just begun to be known as the West Block where she had eked out an existence, that there were ships on the coast which would grant you passage to the port city of No. 2. A two week long trek across barren land had taken Rin to the ocean, and her effort was rewarded; a cargo ship bound for No. 2 willing to take her aboard in exchange for manual labor and a nominal fee. The relief she felt upon finally arriving in the city was soon tainted by a sharp sliver of unease: Rin needed the ship’s captain to approve her application to officially enter No. 2.

“Well, I was gonna approve it,” he said. “But I noticed something strange here.” He pointed to the gender marker she had checked: female.

Rin had developed a habit of disguising herself as a man while trying to survive in the West Block, a facade she had carefully maintained on their journey. She narrowed her eyes and said nothing.

“Strange, isn’t it? Here I was assuming you were a boy the whole time.”

It was a familiar feeling, this moment, of becoming instantly aware of everything around her: two exits, one of which would put her out on deck and the other which would take her into the crew’s living quarters; a knife in the captain’s pocket, mostly used for cutting rope; a disgusting leer in his eyes. He had more weight and muscle, and an entire crew of similar minded and bodied people behind him. The only advantage she held over him was speed. 

“I never claimed to be male or female,” Rin said, keeping her words carefully even and cool. “I asked for passage in exchange for work and a fee. I paid my fee, and I did my work.”

The captain nodded. “That is true,” he said. “But you see, there is an extra cost for women on this ship.”

Rin resisted an urge to sneer. “I have money, if that’s what you want.”

“Oh no, it isn’t a monetary fee. I expect another form of payment.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then I’m afraid I won’t be able to approve this paperwork to legally enter the city.” The man gave her a rotten-toothed smile. “If you attempt to disembark, I will alert the authorities here that there is a dangerous criminal on the loose.”

Rin knew what the payment he wanted was, and she was not going to give it to him. It would be easier to hide from the No. 2 law enforcement in the vastness of the city than escape the crew on the ship. She would take her chances.

The door to the deck began to open, and Rin stole the opportunity while she had it. With a few swift movements she took the captain’s knife from his pocket, pulled the door wide open, slipped past whoever it was who stood there, and dove into the bay. The water was murky and would conceal the direction of her movement; she hid under an algae-covered floating dock to catch her breath and wait for things around the ship to quiet down.

She had not been fortunate. Rin snuck into the crowd, seeking darkness and cover, but the No. 2 police responded to the ship captain’s call far more quickly than she had anticipated. The sounds of bullets rang around her ears and a sharp pain ripped through her leg. An open sewer tunnel seemed her only option. It had spilled her out here, into this dismal, seemingly forgotten corner of the city. While on the ship she had begun memorizing a map of the city’s streets, but her journey through the wastewater tunnel had disoriented her. This district was residential and quiet, and far too exposed. She made her way in silence from street to street, seeking shelter so that she could safely treat her wound. 

Rin usually prided herself on her speed, but the injury to her leg was slowing her down—it was painful to run on, and she could feel herself getting lightheaded from blood loss. She turned down the nearest alleyway, hope draining away with every drop of blood lost. But rather than the darkness she desired she found light spilling out from an open door.

A girl her own age in a red and gold school uniform stood in the doorframe, calling in a pair of ginger-colored cats. Rin glanced down both ends of the alley; the police had not yet followed her here. Rin mustered the rest of her energy to dash through the door, bolting it shut behind her.

The girl ought to have been surprised or frightened by this, but she simply stood there. Rin took advantage of her slow reaction and pulled her backwards into an immobilizing hold, her arm around the girl’s neck and the ship captain’s knife pressed against her skin.

“Make one wrong move and I’ll slice you open. Understand?”

The girl nodded, very carefully. Rin took the opportunity to survey their surroundings: the house was silent and dark. The girl was alone, save the two cats. The hallway was narrow but the spaces she could see seemed orderly and neat. Comfortable and elegant but not ostentatiously wealthy.

“You’re injured,” the girl said, her voice hoarse from the compression of her windpipe. “Your leg needs to be bandaged before you lose too much blood. Let me help you.”

A red stain had soaked her pant leg and was dripping onto the floor. The bullet had ripped all the way through her flesh. It ought to have been more painful than it was; Rin supposed her body must still be in shock.

“Please let me help you,” the girl repeated, her heart pounding rapidly against Rin’s grip.

This girl was an idiot, Rin thought. She had no idea how dangerous this stranger was who had forced her way into her home. But she herself would be foolish to refuse the help. Rin let her go.

“I have a first aid kit in the bathroom upstairs,” the girl explained. “Do you think you can walk on that? Do you need help?”

Rin touched her fingers gingerly to the wound. Weakness finally overcame her, and she sank to the ground. She let the girl support her as she climbed the stairs and guide her to sit down in the shower. “We should wash it off first,” the girl said. Rin watched as she carefully cut away the bottom of Rin’s pant leg, examined the wound, and then rinsed it gently with warm water. Her fingers looked slender and delicate, but surprised Rin with their strength and dexterity. A strange, long-forgotten feeling rose from within the deepest part of her; she pushed it away.

“Why are you helping me?” Rin asked at length.

The girl looked surprised by the question. “Because you need help.”

“You have no idea who I am. I was running from the police. I could be dangerous, you know.” Rin fingered the knife in her pocket, the one she had pressed to the girl’s skin. “I _am_ dangerous.”

The girl nodded. “There was an alert sent out. It said there was a potentially violent criminal in the area.”

“That makes you pretty stupid, then, doesn’t it?”

“For letting you in? I don’t think so. You don’t seem all that dangerous to me.”

“Really.”

“Really.” The girl grinned at her. “You remind me more of a stray cat, and I take those in all the time.” She began drying Rin’s leg with a clean towel, taking care not to irritate the wound. “This is going to need stitches.”

“You know how to do that?”

The girl nodded. “I’ve had advanced first aid training. My parents want me to become a doctor so they thought it would be a good idea. I’ve never done something this serious on my own, though.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“I’m just being honest. I figured you should know the truth.” She flashed Rin a slightly wry smile. “I can call for the hospital instead.”

Rin shook her head. It made her dizzy. “No, you’ll be fine,” she said.

The girl smiled at her, broad and genuine this time. She was beautiful when she smiled, with her deep brown eyes and delicate features and soft hair falling around her face…  

Rin turned away.

“You said you were going to treat this before I bled out, right?”

Rin forced herself to watch as the girl administered an anesthetic and sewed up the wound. She talked in a constant stream as she worked, perhaps in an effort to distract Rin from the pain. “You probably need food and water now after losing all that blood. Wait here, I’ll bring some up. You’ll probably want a change of clothes, too, yours are all bloody now.”

“You’re pretty unusual, aren't you?” Rin asked, when she returned with a glass of juice and a bowl of cold chicken and rice. The girl tilted her head as if confused.

“Am I?”

“You let me in despite knowing I was dangerous and now you’re treating my wounds and offering me food. I have nothing to pay you with, you know.”

“You aren’t going to hurt me,” she replied, as if she had never been more certain of anything in the world. “And why would I want payment?”

“That’s how the world works. If you do something for me, you should expect something in return.”

“Oh.” The girl laughed a little. She put the bowl and juice in front of Rin. “Well, here’s what I want from you, then. Eat this, and drink this whole glass and then a glass of water with this iron pill. And wait here while I find you some clean clothes.”

The girl made her bathe after she ate, and then got mad at herself because she had to change Rin’s bandages after they got wet.

“You really are stupid,” Rin said.

“I am not,” she protested. “I got the highest possible score on my secondary entrance exams. I just didn’t want you getting my sheets all dirty.”

“Why would I be getting your sheets dirty?”

“Because you’re staying the night. You need to rest before you try running from the police again.”

“You have a lot of experience running from the No. 2 police?” Rin asked, eyebrow raised.

The girl surprised her by grimacing slightly. “Something like that,” she said.

The girl’s bed was big enough for two people and luxuriously soft. Rin had never experienced anything like it. It seemed to wrap itself around her as her consciousness began to fade into sleep.

Her tired mind vaguely registered the presence of another body in the bed.

_Warm._

The other girl’s warmth was an irresistible attractive force. Rin rolled towards it, and felt a protective arm tuck itself around her.

When Rin was a small child and had nightmares, her older sisters had done the same.

“You’re so cold.” Ayami’s voice was anxious. “You must have lost more blood than I realized. Maybe we should call the hospital after all, they could give you a transfusion…”

“No.” Rin nestled closer to the warm body beside her. “You’ll be enough. Can we stop talking now?”

The girl nodded, and Rin could hear a smile in her voice. “Okay.”

“Are you sure you’re leaving?”

Rin nodded. Thin morning light streamed into the kitchen. “Yeah. I appreciate the stitches and the food, but I can’t let myself burden you any further.”

The girl wore an unhappy pout of a frown. “You aren’t a burden.”

“Yeah I am. What are you going to do when your parents return? Don’t worry about me, I know how to survive on my own.”

Rin could see her trying to smile. “Rin? Will I ever see you again?”

“I hope so.” Rin leaned forward to place a light, tender kiss on her cheek.

“Goodbye, Ayami.”

Rin stepped swiftly over the threshold, and did not look back.

 

* * *

 

A harsh wind howled across the barren landscape.

The workers’ camp was little more than a dozen military-style tents surrounding a long, squat barrack made of quick-build aluminum. Shion could see a large patch of portable solar panels spread across the ground beyond it. A single figure came out to greet them, a stocky, balding man with leathery skin and a kind face, now marred with worry.

“Boss told me y’all were coming, didn’t think you would get here so fast. I’m Eli,” he said, shaking Shion’s hand firmly. “I’m the team leader on this project. I understand you’re going to try to find whatever is causing all our problems here.”

Shion nodded. “We were hoping you could tell us more about what you’ve been experiencing.”

Eli nodded. “Follow me, I’ll show you.”

The main building seemed to be half mess hall and half meeting area, with a large table in the center displaying a map of the region. Eli pressed a button and the display became three dimensional, clearly showing the mountain range to the east and the huge green patch of forest to the north.

“The first incident happened here.” Eli pointed to a red dot near the end of the constructed track. “One of the laborers building new track just collapsed while he was working. We didn’t think too much about it at first. He’s a nice guy, Emil, but he isn’t the greatest at taking care of his health. Personally, I thought he had just overworked himself.”

“We started to worry when it happened again, two days later.” Emil pointed to another red dot, about a hundred meters further down the rail than the first. “This time it was one of the engineers on the project. He wasn’t doing any of the heavy lifting, he was just monitoring the progress of the project, checking that everything was in place and whatnot. Caused a bit of a panic here in camp but it wasn’t enough to stop the project.”

“The last incident happened right here, during dinner the next day. My other team leader took one bite of stew and just fell over. That was the last straw, for me. Dot’s one of the toughest, straightlaced workers I’ve ever met, didn’t even mess around with booze. At that point I knew that whatever this thing is, it’s gotta be dangerous. I was pretty relieved when the doc at the hospital seconded my request to evacuate. I stuck around here to make sure everyone else got out okay. But I guess even then, a couple of my guys got sick once they got back to No. 5. And now they’re telling me that other citizens are catching it, too.” He shook his head. “Don’t know what’s going on, but I know enough to know it’s not good.”

“Did any of your workers say they encountered anything strange here?” Anna asked.

“Strange?” Eli scratched his head. “There’s some wildlife we don’t usually see in the city, I guess. We got a family of raccoons that get into the compost bins at night and make a racket knocking everything over.” 

“Have you heard any unusual sounds coming from the forest?”

Eli shook his head, looking mystified. “Just animal calls and the wind.”

They left the camp with an ample supply of rations and a few extra supplies, including a portable camp stove and some waterproof, insulating blankets for their tents. “It gets colder than you think it will at night,” Eli warned them. 

“We really appreciate your help,” Shion told him.

“Yeah, sure.” Eli swung into the truck that he would take back to the city. “I hope your mission is successful. I’ve got a lot of good friends in the hospital right now.”

“We’ll do everything we can.”

Nezumi’s eyes were narrowed as he watched the truck drive off.

“What is it?” Shion asked quietly. “Do you think he was lying to us?”

“No. I just wish he had more information. We already knew everything he told us.”

“Well, the supplies will be useful,” Anna said brusquely. Her manner was surprisingly buoyant as they set out for the forest. There was a sort of eagerness in her eyes as they looked toward the dense line of trees just ahead. Nezumi, too, scanned the forest with a strange expression; his eyes were stormy and sharp and he did not smile, but there was no tension in his body and he seemed to be standing taller, somehow. Shion had never seen him quite like this before.

The path Anna had planned out would take them north and east, away from the section of track which had already been laid. Their direction was based on Anna’s memory of where she had encountered Shelob years before. Anna wasn’t certain that the entity still resided there—and Shion and Nezumi’s knowledge of Elyurias’s habits made it seem unlikely that it had any sort of permanent resting place at all—but it was the only thing they had to guide them. It didn’t concern him much; Shion had the feeling that this Shelob would find them first.

The sun was bright and the wind that blew through the camp was unseasonably warm, but under the canopy of the forest it was dark, the air cool and still. This place was quite different than the forests near No. 6, where the climate was warm and wet. The trees were very tall, more pines and firs than the deciduous forests Shion was used to, and grew close together. Their field of view was densely filled with grayish brown columns, reminding Shion of a picture he had seen of an ancient Greek temple in one of Nezumi’s old books. The ground was firm beneath their feet, littered lightly with browned leaves from the previous fall. There were few signs of wildlife beside the occasional rustling of a squirrel in the underbrush. Even the smell of the forest was new and unfamiliar: brisk and sharp and clean.

After about a mile of walking Shion noticed the ground beginning to slope gently downward. After another half mile the trees began to thin, and the ground became rockier. 

Anna turned back to them, pointing ahead with a small smile on her face. “Just up here is one of the most amazing views in the world.”

They stood on a rocky outcropping at the top of a small cliff. Below them the forest stretched out in the enormous valley created by rolling hills on one side and mountains the other. The sky above was a clear, deep blue, and the mountains in the distance were capped with white snow. Shion had never seen anything like it before.

“Wow,” he said softly. He could feel Nezumi’s presence at his side, steady and firm. His silver eyes gazed out over the vast forest before them, now clear and unusually bright, and the barest hint of a smile warmed his face.

“This is what the world is supposed to be.” Nezumi's fingers slid into his palm. “Alive.”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” A wide grin was plastered to Anna’s face. “I’ve always wanted to be able to show it to Nick. Photos never do it justice.”

Shion let his gaze sweep over the view one more time, willing it to be imprinted on his memory. It was beautiful. Unfortunately, beauty was not going to solve the problem at hand. Sightseeing was a waste of precious time.

Shion gently pulled his hand from Nezumi’s. “We’re heading down there?”

Anna nodded, pointing north to a region still in the shadow of the mountain. “That’s where we met it the first time.”

“Then let’s go.”

It was warmer in the valley, and there were more signs of life. Birds chirped and flew from tree to tree above their heads, and small mammals ran to and fro, scampering away when the humans got too close. It perplexed him, a little. Anna had said the animals here were unusually friendly, and he hadn’t seen a single sign of a spider at all… 

Nezumi froze, making Anna stumble behind him. Shion looked up and saw that his eyes had become narrowed and sharp, focused keenly on something in the distance.

“Someone else is here,” he said, pointing to a thicket of trees.

“A person?”

“Not sure. I’m going to check it out. Wait here."

Shion saw a glint of silver in his hand as Nezumi raced silently through the forest and then vanished among the trees. He and Anna waited, both so still they seemed to be afraid of drawing breath. It wasn’t long before they heard the sound of scuffling, and then of Nezumi’s low voice.

He appeared out of the brush, dragging a girl who looked no older than sixteen by the arm. She had long, mousy brown hair tied into a ponytail and wore a wide-eyed, frightened expression which Shion immediately recognized.

“She says she knows you,” Nezumi said, shoving the girl toward Shion, who simply stared at her. His mind stalled, unable to put together a reason why she might be here.

“Cara.”

She looked up at him, her expression now defiant. It was a new one for her; the girl usually shrank when he spoke to her. “What are you doing here?”

Cara opened her mouth, but no words came out. Nezumi grabbed her arm again. “This is your student?”

“Cara, what are you doing here?” Shion repeated, stepping closer to the girl.

This time Cara managed to find her voice. “I want to go with you,” she said, her words strong and resolute despite the nervous trembling of her body.

“Why?” Nezumi asked.

“I want to help you save the people at the hospital.” She clenched her fists. “Please, let me come with you.”

The three adults all looked at each other.

“She can’t come with us. It’s too dangerous,” Shion said. “You two can go on ahead. I’ll call Dr. Conti and take her back with me.”

Nezumi and Anna looked at each other, both agreeing with Shion. Cara, however, stood her ground, glaring at him. “Let me go with you,” she insisted. “I want to help.”

“No. It’s not safe.”

“Do your parents know you’re here?” Anna asked.

Cara shook her head. “They’re away in No. 4 right now, anyway. They won’t miss me.”

Shion frowned. “Her parents are diplomats. It’ll be an inter-city relations nightmare if we allow her to come with us, even if she doesn’t get hurt.”

This seemed to upset Cara more than anything else. “Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here!”

“Cara,” Anna said, gently. “Why do you want to come with us?”

“I heard you talking at the hospital.”

“But I didn’t see you there,” Shion said.

“I was visiting Maya,” she said, her face turning pink. “I heard you talking about going to figure out what was making her sick, and I hid so I could listen to what you were going to do.” She clenched her fists. “I can’t let Maya die.”

“Putting yourself in harm’s way like this isn’t going to help your friend,” Shion said. “I promise we’ll do everything we can to figure out what is causing her illness, but right now we need to take you home.”

Cara just glared at him.

Shion had had enough. A flame of anger had begun to burn in his chest, fueled by worry and fear. He turned to Anna, barely managing to keep the irritation out of his voice. “I’m taking her back. You and Nezumi go ahead. Keep me updated on anything you find.”

“No!”

The violence of Cara’s outburst shocked all three of them. 

“I can’t just sit still and do nothing! Maya and I have known each other since we little. She’s more than just my friend, and I’ve almost lost her once already.” She hung her head. “I love her,” she said, quietly.

Shion was reminded forcibly of another outwardly quiet but determined girl he had once known.

He took a deep breath and looked at Nezumi, who had remained silent until now. Sharp gray eyes met his.

“What do you think?” Shion asked.

“She’s the same age we were when we infiltrated the Correctional Facility,” Nezumi said.

“That was a completely different situation.”

“What we did was more reckless and dangerous, you mean.” Nezumi stepped closer to Cara. “What do you think you can do to be of use to us?” he asked, towering over her. “What skill or knowledge do you possess that we don’t?”

“I’m fast and strong,” Cara said. “I’ve run three marathons and my brother and I have been taking self-defense classes since we could walk because our parents were afraid we’d get abducted. And I’m not afraid of roughing it, I’ve been camping before.”

“This isn’t ‘camping.’ We’re not in some botanical garden which allows schoolchildren to have sleepovers. Physical strength is all fine and good, but what we’re after here is information, and the ability to use it.” Nezumi gestured at Shion and Anna. “Anna has previous experience with this forest and an advanced science degree. Shion has an astounding memory and intellect and survived an encounter with a disease similar to the one that has infected your friend. And I’ve spent most of my life surviving in unknown, dangerous places like this. What can you offer us that we don’t already have?”

“I can be another set of eyes and ears,” Cara replied, the sureness in her voice a surprise—her words had a rehearsed feeling, as if she had planned them ahead of time. “Having another perspective is good, isn’t it? I might be able to notice things you all wouldn’t. And if you take me back you’ll lose half a day of walking, and you have no idea how much time we have left.”

Nezumi raised a single eyebrow. “Did you do that on purpose?”

Cara blinked. “No,” she admitted. “But it’s true.”

Nezumi turned to look at Shion. “She’s right. Taking her back will waste time we don’t have.”

Shion turned to Anna, who just shrugged. He took a deep breath and tried to think through the situation rationally, but the knowledge that now two of his students were now in danger was making it difficult. The same protective feeling that had overwhelmed him on a stormy night fifteen years ago had returned in full force: Cara was sixteen, but she was still a child, still delicate, still required protection. They had no idea what dangers were ahead of them, but he could be certain of one thing: it was not safe for her here.

But there were two dozen patients at the hospital relying on them to finish their mission here, possibly the entire population of No. 5. Could they risk their success for the life of one teenager? Shion was familiar with this sort of decision, after all. The choice between the life of an individual and the collective good of a larger group of people. The decisions had never been easy, but Shion had chosen not to regret them, either.

“Fine,” he said. He grabbed Cara’s arm, feeling a familiar coldness overtake his features. She had to tilt her head up slightly to meet his gaze. “You may come with us. But you must obey any orders we give you, including to flee or hide if necessary. I will not allow you to jeopardize the outcome of this mission any more than you already have. Do you understand?”

Cara’s eyes widened. She nodded. “Yes.”

“Good.” Shion stepped away. He could feel Nezumi’s gaze on him, heavy with curiosity. He ignored it.

“We have a job to do. Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 


End file.
